


you'll be left in the dust (unless i stuck by ya)

by orphan_account



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Aged Up NCT Dream, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018) Fusion, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Comic Book Violence, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Multiverse, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Drug Addiction, Slow Burn, Slow To Update
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2020-08-09 22:09:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 32,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20124631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Donghyuck learns about the multiverse shortly after he’s bombarded with the knowledge that he and Spider-Man are more alike than he would care to admit. Now, he has to balance saving his universe from implosion, helping his new friends get back home, and keeping his budding superpowers a secret from his best friend and long term crush, Mark Lee.





	1. what's up danger

**Author's Note:**

> [AUTHOR'S NOTE: PLEASE READ!]
> 
> while this work is inspired by the plot of spider-man: into the spider-verse (2018), these characters are their own. i have borrowed backgrounds, abilities and skills attributed to various incarnations of spider-man across all media types (i.e. miles' invisibility, the wall crawl, and various family member deaths) and attributed them to the characters in this story. besides that, donghyuck is donghyuck and mark is mark, etc. their characterizations are a reflection of their real-life personalities and not of the fictional superheros i am writing them as for this story. THAT BEING SAID, it is still strongly encouraged for you all to watch (the academy award winner for best animated feature) spider-man: into the spider-verse, as it will help with visualizing certain scenes, especially in the first chapter! also watch it because it's incredible :-)
> 
> this story has not been written out in full, and updates will not be frequent as writer's block is my best friend and i am a student entering my last year of high school, so...please be patient :D (feedback and support could motivate me to punch a few paragraphs out every day, just fyi)
> 
> final disclaimer: this is the first work of mine that i have ever published to ao3. i am the primary person proofreading it, so, if you catch any mistakes, don't hesitate to let me know!
> 
> special thanks go out to [val](https://twitter.com/tyongito) for being an awesome beta, and for all of my friends who listened to me blabber on about this fic. and my lovely sunflower anon, this story is dedicated to you 🌻  
EDIT 8/28: VAL is my anon y'all [law & order theme]
> 
> with all of that done and said, let's begin our journey :D i hope you all like this story as much as i do. happy reading!  
-zee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Will you put me down?! This is kidnapping!” Donghyuck hits a balled fist against the man’s back, despite his common sense telling him that was very much not threatening for a superhero who had battled aliens and came back from The Blip.
> 
> “Jesus,” Spider-Man replies, and his voice isn’t as deep as before. “I am _ trying _to save your life, Donghyuck!”
> 
> “How the fuck do you know my name?!” Donghyuck shrieks.
> 
> “Details!” Spider-Man shouts back.
> 
> To think, Donghyuck should have been spending his afternoon with his friends and a bad cup of coffee, but instead, he’s being manhandled by an enhanced individual in spandex while the world as he knows it is being torn apart. He sort of wants to laugh and cry at the same time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the first chapter!!! huzzah  
all chapter titles coincide with a song title from the itsv soundtrack!!! i would recommend listening to each respective song as you read the chapter :-) for chapter one, ‘what’s up danger’ should be played, etc... i will eventually make a playlist with not only itsv songs that match the chapters, but other songs i feel like fit this fic and the pairings in it ^__~  
okay that’s all. enjoy!!!

The dark room, to Donghyuck, is a second home. Considering his rather outwardly bright and boisterous personality, he should look odd in the dim, quiet space awash in red hues, but he blends into the scene like every other student in his major. The passion he has for photography bleeds through its every aspect; from the sound of his camera shutter to the bags under his eyes from staying awake to edit photos, and finally, to the dark room, watching the fruit of his labor develop into something tangible.

Of course, being a university student, Donghyuck can not afford (read: does not have time or motivation) to set up his own dark room, so he uses the school’s. He’s rarely alone when he goes in to develop his prints, but on the days where he is, he cherishes it. Today is one of those days, in which he has the space all to himself and feels free to move around as he pleases while he works. When he’s in the dark room, especially by himself, his mind runs on autopilot. He’s deft and swift as he moves from dry to wet work, fully enraptured by the task at hand. He falters on one photo.

Living in a place like New York is very advantageous for an ambitious Photography student like Donghyuck. For any assignment, there can be something found in New York for him to photograph. Donghyuck would estimate that 90% of his photos end up being of New York’s everyday sights, landmarks, people, _ and _ superheroes. (Of the 20% that are strictly superhero images for journalism purposes, Donghyuck will tell you only 5% of those photos are of Spider-Man. He’s lying, and it’s 100%. He is thoroughly fascinated by the city’s personal web slinging protector, and definitely gets hell for it from his peers.)

The other 10%, the non-New York photos, end up being exclusively of Mark Lee.

And it’s a sample of that statistic that makes him pause in the middle of his work. He examines the photo less with the sharp eye of a photographer scrutinizing their work and more with the tenderness of someone reliving a memory. He’d captured Mark on a sunny day from a sideways perspective, and had enlarged the photo to focus on the bottom half of his best friend’s face and neck. Mark had the love of the afternoon sun painting him golden, and he was mid-laughter, teeth and dimples on display. The photo shows off the three faint beauty marks decorating his cheek and neck. In all respects, it is not the most mind-blowing image Donghyuck has captured, and he certainly would not turn it in to his professor, but it’s beautiful to him. <strike>Mark is beautiful to him.</strike>

Donghyuck shakes intrusive thoughts out of his head and goes back to work, his cheeks a little hotter and his heart hammering away in his chest.

The time on his phone reads 1:52 P.M. when Donghyuck has finished cleaning and drying his station and packing away his equipment, so he’s due to the Graphic Design hallway in, well, now. So, he legs it out of the dark room and is immediately assaulted by fluorescent lights and the humdrum of students meandering the halls and professors droning out lectures past the walls. Donghyuck adjusts, like he has a million times before, and quickly makes his way to where he needs to be.

He finds Huang Renjun at their usual little meetup spot across the other boy’s 3D Design classroom, very much not alone. He’s with his boyfriend, Jeno, who is one of Donghyuck’s closest friends and _ isn’t _a student at Donghyuck and Renjun’s university. Donghyuck isn’t surprised to see them, but is thankful that the two are too disgustingly engrossed in each other to notice him approaching.

Renjun’s cocooned in Jeno’s arms with his head underneath the taller boy’s chin. Jeno’s back is to Donghyuck, and their position makes it impossible for Renjun to see Donghyuck from over the other boy’s shoulder.

Donghyuck smirks, hand immediately curling around the camera secured around his neck and raising the device up. The shutter sound makes the other two jump apart, which in turn, punches a gleeful guffaw out of the photographer.

“Fucking asswipe,” Jeno murmurs, cheeks red in embarrassment and lips twisted in a sick mix of anger and amusement. His eyes shine with fondness at the sight of his friend and his amusement bests his anger as a grin transforms his face. “Stop creeping up on us like that!”

“Aw,” Donghyuck pouts, sickly sweet and sulky. In another life, he could’ve majored in acting. “I missed you, too, _ baby_.”

Renjun rolls his eyes at the idiocy polluting their atmosphere. “Oh-_kay_, everybody’s here, let’s go.”

Donghyuck wraps an arm around each of his friends’ shoulders, happily assembling his third wheel position right in between them. They begin walking.

“Mark-hyung not joining us?” Jeno furrows his brows.

“Nah,” Donghyuck sighs. “Has some _ big _ project to finish. He’s gonna be cooped up in the lab for the rest of the afternoon.”

Jeno emits a grunt that translates to _ That kinda blows _ and Donghyuck can only nod, because, _ yeah, it really fucking does. _ As much as Donghyuck admires Mark’s passion for biochemistry, it’s been a good three days since he’s spoken to him outside of texts and groggy good mornings at the breakfast island in their shared apartment. He _ misses _ him.

“Yeah, we know,” Renjun smirks from his left.

Donghyuck groans and feels a blush spread down from his face to his neck. He definitely intended to keep that thought private. “Shut up, Injun.”

“You’re _ still _ pining over him?” Jeno chimes in as they leave the Arts building and step outside. “Dude, I’m sure he’s like, in _ love _ with you. Just ask him out!”

“I am _ not _ pining,” Donghyuck lies (to Jeno, to Renjun, to himself, to the hundreds of prints of Mark sitting in his specially distinguished blue portfolios labeled M). “And even if I _ was,_” he hastens to add, “I would never ask him out—”

“God,” Renjun groans. “We know! _ We’ve been best friends since childhood and I wouldn’t want to risk losing that forever._” Donghyuck scowls at the high pitched voice Renjun used to impersonate him, and opens his mouth to retort, retaliate, refute, but doesn’t get the chance to do anything.

“Save it,” Renjun says. “We’ll listen to you _ after _ you admit your big fat crush on your nerdy roommate-slash-best-friend-slash-soulmate.” He raises an eyebrow up as if to challenge Donghyuck to respond, but the other boy can only grumble and hang his head in defeat. Renjun smiles in triumph.

Donghyuck falls into inclined silence after that, mostly as a way to make sure his thoughts _ stay _ in his head. He lets his friends carry on another conversation without him, and he’s happy to simply listen to them speak. He’s _ happy_, point blank. He’s had a good day. He truly does feel happy, despite his inner emotional turmoil; it’s a beautifully sunny and breezy Tuesday in September and he’s got his beautiful friends willingly accompanying him to the hipster cafe he loves (but they hate), and he truly, genuinely feels happy. There’s contentment swirling between his ribcage and congregating around his heart, squeezing it and pulling the corners of his lips upwards. He’s happy—and then, he feels it.

Vibrations beneath the soles of feet, low and threatening and treacherously growing louder. Donghyuck drags his feet to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk. The happiness in his chest slowly fizzles and dies. The conversation surrounding him dies, too. Renjun and Jeno have stopped beside him, clearly having felt the same thing he did. None of them dare to speak. Donghyuck’s hand on Jeno’s shoulder fists the other boy’s shirt for balance. He feels more than sees Renjun grab onto his wrist.

The vibrations pick up. The concrete beneath them shakes and rumbles are heard from every angle. Disaster is announcing its arrival. An unsettling feeling drops into Donghyuck’s stomach like cement; heavy and solid. The city _ never _ gets earthquakes.

“Okay,” Jeno says, shakily, placing his hand above Donghyuck’s hand still clutching his shirt, trying to ease his friend’s vice grip. “So. Earthquake. I say we stop standing around and—”

An awful cracking sound cuts Jeno off, and Donghyuck’s eyes cut to its source. His clutch on Jeno’s shirt loosens and his hand drops unceremoniously. Renjun gasps from beside him. 

A bench is half buried in the ground while the earth surrounding it and swallowing it remains undisturbed. There’s an odd air around the scene. Electric, fluorescent currents seem to be trying to rebuild the bench—or tear it apart entirely.

“Okay.” Renjun says meekly. “Earthquakes don’t—I mean, that’s not even _ sinking _ into the ground, man.”

It keeps happening. Everywhere Donghyuck turns, the invisible claws of destruction tear apart the world around them. The Arts building thirty feet behind them, that they had just left, gains more windows while its left wing becomes distorted, brick and cement being pulled apart and shoved back together in ways they shouldn’t be. Sewers explode open and the water halts in midair. Sinister colors follow the destruction. 

The vibrations, the monstrous rumblings beneath the earth only grow louder. 

People try to flee from this ubiquitous danger. Professors and students alike, they scream and run past three boys frozen in place.

Everything is falling apart around them. And Donghyuck is so, so, very afraid.

“Okay,” he starts, the default voice of reason between the three of them during any crisis. His voice shakes, but he pushes through, raising it to be heard over the cacophony of screams. “We need to get to safety. I-I _ seriously _ don’t know what the fuck is going on right now—this can’t be an earthquake—but whatever, I know I don’t want us to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and have a fucking fire hydrant skewer us or something.”

“Lovely,” Jeno quips, voice dry and weak with apprehension. “And where is safety, exactly? Everything is...Jesus, _ fuck_, man.” Jeno’s deep voice breaks and he pushes a shaking hand through his hair. A blood curdling scream comes and goes as someone barrels past him, jostling the boys closer together.

Donghyuck grips Renjun’s elbow with one arm and Jeno’s wrist with the other. “I don’t know,” he responds honestly, a bitter taste in his mouth. Donghyuck hates not knowing what to do in moments of high tension; he hates feeling lost. “Just...maybe we could keep running? Run—run, and maybe we’ll just...find someplace that hasn’t been…” He trails off, looking at the destruction around them in poorly concealed panic. He was beginning to lose the last semblance of his composure.

“We could try my Auntie’s restaurant,” Renjun pipes up, a wild but determined twinkle in his eye. “That hole in the wall take-out place we like so much. It survived the Battle of New York, so it might be sturdy enough to avoid sustaining any damage.”

Donghyuck briefly thinks that sturdiness has very little against the urban hell being unleashed around them that definitely raised the bar for future Avengers-level catastrophes, but shook the thought out of his head for his sake and the sake of his friends. _ Anywhere _ has to be better than being out in the open.

“I’m with Renjun,” Jeno says.

Donghyuck nods, willing pluck to overpower panic. “Okay, to the hole in the wall, then.” He grasps both of their hands in his own, giving each a firm squeeze. “But we _ need _ to stick together—”

The hair-raising groan of metal being contorted drowns Donghyuck out, and the boys turn to see what caused the offensive noise.

To their left, there should be a streetlamp. Only now, it’s caught between being split in half and brandishing a second lamp-head entirely. 

“What the _ fuck_?” Renjun exclaims, his voice high and strained with stress.

Donghyuck knows that streetlamp well. He’s spent many Tuesday nights leaning against it, waiting for all of the biochemistry lab students to shuffle off into the night so he could pick up the nerdiest one, who liked to drag his feet and hover at the back of the group.

_ Mark. _

Donghyuck’s brain short circuits and his hands slip out of his friends’. 

“Mark.” He spits the name out with reverent fear, his voice shrill, and backs away from Jeno and Renjun as he fumbles for his phone. He’s already dialed Mark’s number and has his phone pressed against his ear when Jeno acknowledges his exclamation.

“Shit.” Jeno’s face crumples as the realization of Mark’s situation crashes down on him.

“Yes, Jeno. _ Shit_.” Donghyuck’s muscles are wound tight. He paces up and down the concrete square as the phone rings, rubbing his knuckles between his brows and gnawing at his bottom lip.

_ Please pick up. Please pick up. _

The ringing on the other line stops, and Donghyuck gets hopeful. The hope is instantly crushed when the call gets sent to voicemail, and he lets out a low laugh, dry and brittle, as fear settles into his bones.

_ “Hey! It’s Mark—” _

_ “And his amazing best friend Donghyuck—” _

_ “Shut up, Donghyuck-ah.” Donghyuck giggles and Mark clears his throat, smile in his voice. “Anyway, sorry, I can’t take your call right now. Leave it at the beep!” _

The answering machine tone makes Donghyuck’s hair stand on end and he furiously pockets his phone after <strike>stabbing</strike> pressing the _end call_ button. “_Fucking _ shithead Mark Lee!” He seethes, barely managing to avoid getting tackled by a panicked professor sprinting past them. It’s Jeno who tugs him out of harm’s way, but Donghyuck is too wound up in his anger-anxiety emotion cocktail to notice. “He _ always _ has to be at the _ wrong _ place at the _wrong _ time—_won’t _answer the phone—”

“Hey!” Renjun snaps his fingers in front of his face and his sharp voices cuts into Donghyuck’s tirade. “Calm _ down_, Donghyuck,” he says, stern.

Donghyuck blinks rapidly. His short burst of rage had drowned out his surroundings as his mind zeroed in on gruesome images of Mark in the worst _ what if _ scenarios, and only then, when Renjun spoke, did the groans of disaster and the wails of fear fall onto his ears again. He lets out a shaky exhale.

“Here,” Jeno gingerly grabs Donghyuck’s elbow and guides him off of the sidewalk and onto the grass. They stand a few feet shy of the mangled streetlamp. Looking at it makes Donghyuck queasy, his mouth twisting in distaste before he finally averts his eyes.

“He might be out already,” Renjun suggests, a <strike>weak</strike> hopeful air to his voice. “He could be running here right...this second…”

Donghyuck shakes his head. “He always picks up. He could be crossing the street and he’d still answer me if I called him.”

“This is a bit more hazardous than jay-walking, I think.”

Renjun gives Jeno the universal _ you’ve said enough _ look, and the boy clamps his mouth shut. “Look,” Renjun focuses on Donghyuck, rubbing the boy’s arms to placate him, and if the grip also allows him to stabilize the both of them while quakes threaten to throw them off balance, that’s why he holds on tighter. “Thinking of him in horrible situations isn’t going to help us _ avoid _ those situations ourselves. We have to get out of here before things get worse, and that means we have to go _ now._”

Renjun’s voice is grounding, his tone clear and strong, but.

But nothing matches the strength of Donghyuck’s...affection—that’s what he’s been calling it, to avoid the much more daunting word—for Mark Lee.

He makes a decision.

“Okay,” Donghyuck says, and Renjun lets out a sigh. “Go, then.” The space between Renjun’s brows diminishes as confusion clouds his features. Donghyuck gently peels his friend’s hands off of him and deposits him in Jeno’s care. “Me and Mark will catch up with you at the restaurant.”

“Donghyuck—” Jeno tries to get a word in, his tone exasperated, but he becomes preoccupied with holding his boyfriend back.

“You are _ fucking _ crazy,” Renjun seethes as Donghyuck starts backing away. “This is not the fucking time to be a hero, Hyuck.”

Donghyuck shakes his head, a brittle laugh escaping him. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to him,” he says frankly. “Huh, I guess I’m finally admitting my crush after all.” As the last word leaves his lips, a tree uproots itself from behind Renjun and Jeno. Jeno flinches, and wraps a protective arm around Renjun’s middle, leaning his head towards his boyfriend’s ear to whisper soothing words. Renjun pays him no mind, keeping his fiery gaze fixed on Donghyuck.

“He’s our friend, too. But so are_ you_. What happens if neither of you come back?”

“That won’t happen,” Donghyuck counters, confident. “So _ go_. I’ll get his stupid ass back to all of us safe and sound.” Renjun doesn’t seem at all comforted by Donghyuck’s words. The destruction picks up in speed and fervor, the arts building completely collapsing in on itself. The air smells charged, the scent of electricity at the forefront of Donghyuck’s senses. He pretends it isn’t there, pretends he isn’t one step away from accidentally walking into his own demise. Donghyuck levels a stubborn gaze at Renjun. _ Let me do this_.

“Renjun,” Jeno pleads. “Trust him. He’s already made up his mind and if we try to stop him, we’re _ all _ toast.”

_ Huh_, Donghyuck absentmindedly muses to himself as he notes how firmly Jeno speaks. Maybe _ his _ voice was the voice of reason in their group, after all.

Renjun senses the same, as he goes steadily limp in Jeno’s hold. His gaze never wavers, and as Donghyuck starts to properly walk away, he lets Jeno drag him in the opposite direction.

Donghyuck already has his back turned to them and has quickened his speed walking into a sprint, his camera cradled protectively in his hands, when he hears the tell-tale shrillness of Renjun’s enraged voice shout at him.

“If you die for him, Donghyuck, I’ll kill you!”

Donghyuck can’t help it. He grins; despite the situation; despite the blood curdling screams and sweaty bodies surrounding him on all sides; despite the fact that he is running faster than he would ever willingly run, towards a building already half caved-in, towards a boy that may or may not be alive for Donghyuck to save at all. He grins, because there hasn’t been a single day where he didn’t greet Mark Lee with a smile on his face. He wasn’t going to break that streak today, no matter the situation.

Making it inside of the science building was the easy part, if easy meant having to shove past panicking students and faculty members and dodge their bewildered stares that clearly said _ What the hell is this kid doing running _ towards _ death? _However, making it to where Mark should be, turned out to be difficult.

Donghyuck took one look at the gaping hole in the lobby where the elevators were meant to be, and silently gave thanks for the fact that he wore shoes that would be suitable for running down flights of stairs. And that’s exactly what he started to do.

With the lack of elevators on the main floor, the stairwell turned out to be just as packed as the crowd had been at the main entrance. Everyone was attempting to go _ up, _ while Donghyuck was headed in the complete opposite direction. By the time he stumbles out of the stairwell and into the sub-level lab hallway, his chest is heaving, his bag straps are digging into his shoulders uncomfortably, and his bangs are plastered to his forehead. Sweat pools in the most unbearable places, making his clothes stick to his skin. Donghyuck doesn’t let any of this deter him. When he should be taking a breather, bent over with his hands on his knees, Donghyuck only squares his shoulders and keeps running. 

The lab hallway is deserted, but not immune to the phantom offender laying waste to everything. Here, underground, Donghyuck can hear the ominous rumblings so much clearer. They reverberate through the walls, making the ceiling shed dust and making cracks form in the floor, ceiling, and walls. Donghyuck slows his pace as he gets closer to Mark’s lab. He’s careful to step over any cracks and deformities in the floor. 

Rounding the corner into the right hallway, Donghyuck’s breath hitches. The lab door had been blown open. 

Donghyuck rushes to it, raising a shaking hand to whatever’s left of the door. His hand curls around the crumpled metal for purchase, and he steps over the wreckage with little ease, grunting as he finally lands on the other side of the doorway.

The lab is in complete disarray. Equipment lies scattered among the debris on the floor and the ceiling lights flicker and pop above Donghyuck’s head.

Mark is nowhere to be seen.

Donghyuck all but begins to panic. He steps further into the lab, as careful as he can. There’s no sign of life no matter how many times his eyes rake over the scene. And then, out of the corner of his eye, he sees it. A door on the right side of the lab, ajar. Upon stepping closer to it, he sees that it seems to have been opened with force. The lettering on the front of it reads **STORAGE - FACULTY ONLY.** It appears to be the door to any old, boring storage closet, but, Donghyuck, curious as ever, banks on the hope that there’s more to this measly door than meets the eye and pushes it open.

“What the fuck.”

Behind the door is a hallway that seems to stretch on for ages. The ceiling lights in this hallway flicker, and Donghyuck feels a phantom breeze hitting his skin.

_Fuck it._

Donghyuck steps into the hallway gingerly, and starts walking.

He steps quickly, hoping beyond hope that there can be something worthwhile to find at the end of the hallway. The further he walks, the stronger the wind blows. Donghyuck suppresses a shiver.

After what feels like an eternity, he reaches a makeshift doorway. Really, it looks like a bunch of shower curtains stacked against each other. Donghyuck pulls the first one back, and begins to make his way through. The sight that greets him after he pulls the last curtain back and steps through the doorway is nothing short of unexpected and terrifying.

Logically, Donghyuck knew he was underground. The concrete and linoleum of the building did a very good job of concealing that, but _ this_...he truly felt that he was underground, now.

It was like he had fallen into a hole in the Earth. It was damp and dirty, but the machinery and equipment around him told him it was a construction site. But he couldn’t focus on these minute things for too long, not when _ that _ was right in front of him. A menacing device, grand in size and imagination. It looked like two gigantic, futuristic guns pointed directly at one another. A beam of light connected them and met in the middle as a giant, antagonized sphere of energy.

If Donghyuck thought the quakes on the surface were something to fear, it was one million times worse underground. The entire place shook. It was clear that the source of the quake had to be the machine.

Dragging his eyes away from the metallic monstrosity, Donghyuck sees a room built into an upper level of the crevasse. Behind the glass that separates the room from the site, he can make out figures in white coats running around in haste. They seem to be controlling the machine...and have lost said control, by the looks of it.

Belatedly, Donghyuck realizes that he _ really _ should not be here. But, he remembers why he foolishly went down a creepy hallway to begin with, and his blood runs cold with the thought of Mark possibly being here, in the eye of the storm. He really hopes he isn’t.

A noise above the droning of the machine and rumbles of the earth reaches his ears, and Donghyuck casts his gaze further up. He gasps.

“Spider-fucking-Man,” he whispers under his breath. His grip on his camera tightens instinctually.

The masked hero in spandex is crawling along the ceiling of the structure, banging on it as if that would stop the machine. But, what did Donghyuck know? Maybe it would.

Forgetting himself for a moment, Donghyuck raises his camera. Points it at the web-slinger. Zooms. And then cringes when the shutter sound goes off. He hastily lowers his camera, missing the way the only other head in the area turns towards him from hundreds of feet above.

Donghyuck notices a tiny spider resting on his thumb knuckle as he’s fiddling with his camera, and wants to chuckle at the irony of the situation. But then, he feels the tell-tale sting of a bite, and winces as he rushes to brush the arachnid off of his skin.

In the next moment, Donghyuck is dragged back down to reality. The machine emits a worrying high frequency before it promptly begins to overheat. Donghyuck sees it in the way parts begin snapping off and blasting out into the air. The machine is, without a doubt, steadily malfunctioning, and Donghyuck went and put himself right in front of it.

He’s about to turn around and high tail it out of there when a flash of red and blue comes into his line of vision. Spider-Man has swung down from his perch on the ceiling and lands right in front of Donghyuck with unmatched agility and ease.

“Um,” Donghyuck says dumbly. “Aren’t you gonna...do something about that?” He lifts his arm to point a finger over Spider-Man’s shoulder, right at the machine that’s moments away from blowing them to smithereens.

“I am doing something,” a muffled, somewhat deep voice replies, and Donghyuck jolts because that’s Spider-Man’s voice. He’s so starstruck that he only notices the superhero throw webbing at his camera a second too late.

“Hey!” Donghyuck exclaims, looking back and forth between his precious, _ expensive _ camera now stuck to his shirt, and the man who made it that way in the first place. “What the fuck was that for? This baby cost me _ three _ paychecks and—”

“Hold on tight.” Spider-Man says, cutting Donghyuck off.

Donghyuck frowns in confusion, about to ask _ Hold on tight to _ what_? _But, before he can, the wind gets knocked out of him as Spider-Man ducks and throws him over his shoulder. He takes off running, away from the machine, through the shower-curtain-doorway, and down the impossibly long hallway.

“Put me _ down!_” Donghyuck shouts, although his grip around the hero’s shoulders completely contradicts his words. He watches linoleum fly by underneath them as Spider-Man sprints down the corridor, and briefly gets distracted by the sight of the superhero’s ass, before he remembers himself. 

“Will you put me down?! This is kidnapping!” Donghyuck hits a balled fist against the man’s back, despite his common sense telling him that was very much _ not _ threatening for a superhero who had battled aliens and came back from The Blip. Granted, Donghyuck had also returned from The Blip, but _he_ didn't have to fight an insane purple Titan as soon as he did.

“Jesus,” Spider-Man replies, and his voice isn’t as deep as before. “I am _ trying _ to save your life, Donghyuck!”

“How the fuck do you know my name?!” Donghyuck shrieks.

“Details!” Spider-Man shouts back.

To think, Donghyuck should have been spending his afternoon with his friends and a bad cup of coffee, but instead, he’s being manhandled by an enhanced individual in spandex while the world as he knows it is being torn apart. He sort of wants to laugh and cry at the same time.

They reappear in the lab and Spider-Man kicks the door shut behind them. He refuses to drop Donghyuck as he maneuvers through the chaos. He takes the exact same route Donghyuck took to get there, stairs and all, and Donghyuck shouts expletives the entire way up. Before he knows it, Donghyuck finds himself staring at pavement instead of tile. Outside, the throng of frightened civilians has thinned down to a stray few who lag behind to watch the destruction unfold. He, too, raises his head in tandem with everyone else, and gazes openly at it all. He wants to take a picture, and then remembers the state his camera is in and he sighs.

“You got,” Spider-Man pipes up in between pants as he runs through the campus grounds, “kinda quiet, there.”

Donghyuck scoffs. “Do the other people you kidnap usually initiate small talk?”

“I don’t _ do _ this for everyone,” Spider-Man grumbles. “I should still be at that lab trying to turn the Collider off.”

_ Collider? _“Gee, I’m so touched,” Donghyuck deadpans. “Thank you, my arach-knight-in-shining-armor. I am truly indebted to you.”

“Is now really the time to crack jokes?” Spider-Man slows to a stop at a crosswalk, and gingerly peels Donghyuck off and deposits him on the ground. A few people glance towards them, but the sight of Spider-Man in the city has become such a common one that it doesn’t deter them from trying to run for their lives. Donghyuck immediately steps away from him and brushes himself down, scowling at the masked man.

“I’m _ coping_,” he retorts. “You know, I didn’t even _ ask _to be saved, or whatever—”

“Hop on,” Spider-Man cuts him off, turning his back to Donghyuck and bending down a little.

Donghyuck casts a bewildered stare at the man’s offensive back. “Excuse me?” He sputters.

Spider-Man sighs and looks over his shoulder at Donghyuck. “Life or death, Donghyuck,” he says with exasperation. “Life or death.”

“Don’t call me by my name,” Donghyuck is quick to comment, glaring daggers at the other man. “I don’t know how you know it and it’s freaking me out.”

“Oh-kaaaaay,” Spider-Man groans and tilts his head back. The eyes on his suit are slanted downwards now, in poor mimicry of the annoyed expression Spider-Man is most likely brandishing beneath the mask. “Just _ get on_, please?”

Donghyuck is tentative as he steps closer towards the superhero. _ Life or death_, he had said. Donghyuck wasn’t stupid enough to turn down the former because of something so misplaced as stubborn pride. He gingerly places his hands on Spider-Man’s shoulders, hopping up onto his back. He swings his legs to wrap around the other man’s waist, and snakes his hands under Spider-Man’s arms, hugging the hero’s back to his chest.

Donghyuck is aware that he is clinging to a world renowned superhero, an _ Avenger _ for God’s sake, like a koala, and he feels beyond embarrassed. He’s just thankful that Spider-Man, given their position, can’t turn around to see how red his face has become. But, if Donghyuck is correct in assuming what’s about to happen, then doing anything _but _ clinging to Spider-Man like a koala would result in a serious fall followed by grave blunt force trauma to Donghyuck’s, well, _ everything. _

He holds on a little tighter.

“This is gonna be a bumpy ride,” is the only warning Spider-Man gives him. In the next moment, the hero has thrown out webbing and Donghyuck feels a violent jolt, tugging them up, up, up. He thinks he might be screaming, but he can’t be sure because of the deafening sound of wind howling in his ears as they fall back down.

Jolt up, fall down. The pattern repeats. Donghyuck is swinging with Spider-Man.

Because of his inconvenient fear of heights, he can only glance at the sight of the entire city blurring past them hundreds of feet away once before he squeezes his eyes shut and buries his head against the hero’s nape. He’s sure he isn’t screaming now, because he’s got his teeth sinking into his lower lip hard enough to make him taste metal on his tongue. His breathing is ragged and the pendulum motion just won’t _ stop— _

Up, and fall. Up, and fall, Up, and—

Pause.

Donghyuck can still feel a breeze, cooler than it should be, so he knows they couldn’t have landed somewhere on the ground. Curiosity overpowers his acrophobia and he blinks his eyes open, raising his head away from Spider-Man’s nape. He pointedly avoids casting his eyes downwards and looks straight ahead, coming face-to-pane with his bedroom window.

“Can you get it open? And _quickly?_” Spider-Man grunts from in front of him, where he’s paused in a crawl with his head bowed down enough to allow Donghyuck to maneuver to the window. “You’re kind of heavy.”

The first thing Donghyuck does when he’s pulled his arm away from Spider-Man’s torso is smack the hero upside the head. 

“Ow! What the _ fuck!_ You can’t hit me, I’m an Avenger!”

Donghyuck rolls his eyes, choosing to focus on unlatching his window first, and replying to Spider-Man second.

“Considering the fact that you _ A_, know my name,” Donghyuck begins once he’s pushed the window pane up and open. “And _ B, _ know where I live down to which fucking window is mine, I’d say you’re more of a _ stalker _ than an Avenger, big guy.” Donghyuck starts to pull himself in through the window, using the superhero as purchase for his feet and smacking the other’s hand away when it came in contact with his hip, even though he knew Spider-Man was only trying to help. “So _ forgive me_,” he grunts out as his feet finally make contact with his bedroom carpet. He tosses his bag and turns around to face the superhero outside of his window. He’s breathless. “I think I was a little justified in hitting you,” he huffs out.

Spider-Man scoffs.

Donghyuck narrows his eyes. “Don’t _ tch _me, Spider-Boy. I wanna know what you were doing in that underground lab, and how you know so much about me. Start talking.”

“Donghyuck—” Spider-Man starts.

“Like that!” The photographer interrupts, pointing an accusing finger outside of his window and at the other man. “How could you _ possibly _ know my name, huh? I’m not famous or special enough for an Avenger to know me by name—I’m just—_Donghyuck, _ a photography student.”

Spider-Man is frowning by the time Donghyuck’s done ranting.

“You owe me a new camera by the way,” Donghyuck adds when the superhero still won’t acknowledge him verbally, except his own tone has been sapped of its gusto, and his voice comes out small as he wraps a protective hand around the ruined camera still webbed to his shirt.

“I’m sorry,” Spider-Man finally says, with a sigh. “Cross my heart, I _will_ buy you a new camera.”

Donghyuck nods in muted satisfaction. “And everything else?”

Spider-Man appears to be ruminating heavily for a few long moments before he speaks again. “Mark,” he breathes out, and that single syllable uttered steals several heartbeats from Donghyuck. “Mark would talk about you. That’s how I know your name, and...I assumed this was your window only because I knew it wasn’t Mark’s. That’s it.”

Donghyuck is stunned into silence before his brain catches up with the speed at which his heart had started beating. “Mark? _ My _ Mark?” The tunnel vision he had running into the science building and before encountering Spider-Man underground is back in full force. He can hear his pulse in his ears. “Is he alive? Do you know where he is? How do you even _ know _ Mark?” Donghyuck spits out the questions at a rapid pace, adrenaline having propelled him forward. His hands are digging into the window ledge uncomfortably as he leans out of the gap and into Spider-Man’s space.

“Well,” the hero begins, his voice reedier all of a sudden. He clears his throat. “He, um, tipped me off about the lab, months ago. He said he had a feeling something was going on, more than the head scientists were leading on. And, yes, he’s alive, because I made sure to evacuate the entire lab.”

“So, where is he?” Donghyuck asks in urgency. “How can you be so sure that he’s still alive if you just helped him out of the lab and nothing else? He could be in danger anywhere else right now! The world is being torn apart, Spider-Boy!”

“Yes,” Spider-Man agrees. “And I need to get back to the lab to, you know, _ stop _that from happening.”

Donghyuck shakes his head vehemently. “I only care about Mark right now. You aren’t leaving until you _ swear _ to me that he’s alive.”

Spider-Man visibly deflates. “Donghyuck…” He sighs.

Before Donghyuck can realize what’s happening, Spider-Man has inched his way up and into his space, crowding him. Donghyuck shrinks back in apprehension and sucks in a sharp breath when the hero plants his hand in the space where Donghyuck’s shoulder meets his neck. A thumb lightly presses onto his pulse point. Donghyuck holds his breath and stares at the masked hero with wide eyes.

“I swear to you,” Spider-Man says in a hushed voice. “Everything will be alright.”

The contact leaves as fast as it came and Spider-Man draws back. Donghyuck can’t speak; he feels like there’s a giant wad of cotton sitting heavy on his tongue. All he can do is watch as Spider-Man throws webbing and leaps off of the building.

“Be back in a jiff!” The hero shouts as he starts weaving between buildings. Donghyuck watches him until he can’t, until the red and blue figure disappears from his line of vision.

He stands there, leaning outside of his window for a few more moments. It’s only when his teeth start chattering does he realize that it has become unbearably cold, so he swiftly ducks back into his room and slides his window shut.

Donghyuck rubs his hands up and down his arms aimlessly as he walks backwards further into his room. His mind feels like tangled film, stuck on the feeling of the superhero and the sight of him in front of Donghyuck. It was a strangely intimate moment, and where Donghyuck should be feeling uncomfortable at the thought of someone who is practically a stranger to him invading his personal space like Spider-Man did, he finds himself relishing in the almost terrifying sense of familiarity embedded into the moment.

Donghyuck stands there for a few more minutes, simply _ thinking_. He knows the quakes are still happening, because he can still hear the way they shake the earth even from his eighth floor apartment. Except, these vibrations are much sharper, much clearer, than even the ones he heard underground. They’re incessant and almost rhythmic—

“Shit,” Donghyuck exclaims as he darts for his bag. He unzips it and digs around for his phone, before he feels his hand clasp around the buzzing device. Pulling it out, he sees Renjun’s caller ID and doesn’t hesitate before sliding the **ANSWER** key.

“Hey—”

“_Where the fuck are you, Donghyuck? _ ” Renjun cuts him off. “_I__t’s nearly been an hour and we’re worried sick! Did you find Mark?_”

Donghyuck takes a deep breath and sits down on his bed, leaning his weight forward as he rests his elbows on his knees. “I’m fine, Jun. And...so is Mark.”

“_Where are you? Are you safe? Is Mark with you?_” He hears Jeno speak.

“I’m at home, I’m safe, and, no, he isn’t—”

“_What?! But you said he was fine! Did you see him at all?_”

“_How did you even get home so fast?_”

His best friends’ panicked voices were revving his anxiety up and Donghyuck felt a headache begin to make itself known, just between his brows. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Look, I can’t exactly explain everything right now because, frankly, I’m a bit nauseous from fucking swinging through the city on Spider-Man’s back—”

“_What the _ fuck.”

“_Was there any radiation down in the lab? Did you hit your head on something?_” Jeno chimed in.

“No!” Donghyuck replied. “No, no, I’m not kidding right now, it’s just complicated and obviously hard to believe but Spider-Man _ knows _Mark and he was at the lab with the machine and—”

“_What machine?_”

“Jeno,” Donghyuck said, managing to keep his voice even while his patience wore thin. He raised his head. Outside, the sun was beginning to set, a palette of blues and oranges and pinks a stark contrast against New York City’s skyline. “_Please _ let me finish.”

“_Right, sorry,_” came Jeno’s sheepish response.

“Like I said, it’s complicated and I don’t even know what to make of any of it. I don’t know _ what _ the machine was or what Spider-Man was doing down there, or how he knows Mark or how _ Mark _ knows _ him_, but the bottom line is,” Donghyuck takes a breath. “Spider-Man kinda saved my life today,” he finishes quietly.

“_Wow,_” says Renjun on the other end. “_That’s some meet-cute._”

“Meet-_what? _”

“_Never mind,_” Renjun sighs. “_But how—_”

Today, in Donghyuck’s mind, will be remembered less as the day he swung with Spider-Man, and more as the day where nobody could finish their sentences. A massive quake shook Donghyuck’s apartment, the vibrations being the loudest ones yet. It lasts for a moment, maybe two, before the world stills.

“Did you guys feel that?” Donghyuck asks at the same time he hears Jeno say, “_Holy shit._”

“_Yeah_,” Renjun’s breathless. “_Yeah, the whole restaurant shook. My poor auntie’s crying, fuck—here, Jeno—_” Donghyuck hears rustling on the other line and then it’s just him and Jeno on the call.

“_Hey, you alright?_”

“Yeah, Jen, I’m _ fine _, just…” Donghyuck sighs and gets up. He crosses his room in two strides and resumes his former position outside his window. “Woah,” he breathes out once he takes in the city below him.

“_What’s up?_”

“Jeno, is everything...back to normal where you are?”

“_...Define normal?_”

“Like,” Donghyuck pauses, gnawing at his lower lip. “The shit we saw on campus. The bench, the buildings, everything...it looks like it was all fixed.”

“_Huh_,” Jeno says. “_Now that you mention it, Mrs. Huang’s cabinet was inside out when we got here and now it’s...normal, yeah._”

“Holy shit,” Donghyuck gasps, stepping away from the window and pushing a hand through his hair. “He did it, Jen!”

“_Who did what?_”

“Spider-Man—” A knock on his window tugs a yelp out of Donghyuck, cutting his sentence short. “Jesus _ fuck__!_” He whirls around to see Spider-Man perched on his windowsill, and lets out a shaky sigh.

“_Hyuck, are you alright?_”

“_Yeah_, Jen. Just my quote-unquote _ savior _ here trying to give me,” Donghyuck raises his voice as he speaks the next words, to make sure they carry through the window pane and to the man lurking behind it, “a _ fucking heart attack! _”

“_Huh?_”

“You don’t have to shout,” Spider-Man says through the glass. “I can hear you just fine, you know. With my super hearing.”

Donghyuck rolls his eyes and dutifully ignores the superhero’s comment. “Nothing, nothing, Jeno, never mind,” he says, exasperated and _ exhausted _ by the day’s events. “I have to go, but, call me when you and Jun are back at his place, okay?”

“_Why are you assuming I’m going back to his—_”

“_Goodbye_, Jeno,” Donghyuck sighs and ends the call, haphazardly chucking his phone onto his bed. He steers his attention back to the window, where Spider-Man is still perched, waiting. Donghyuck rolls his eyes and moves to tug the window up and open, the harsh autumn evening breeze hitting his skin as soon as he does.

“You know,” he says in lieu of an actual greeting, “I could file a restraining order against you.”

“Hello to you, too,” Spider-Man deadpans. “The Collider’s idle now, by the way. The Avengers have confiscated it. _And_ the city can rest easy without Green Goblin on the prowl tonight. All thanks to me.”

At the mention of the Green Goblin, Donghyuck frowns. He takes Spider-Man in, and notices blood and dirt on his suit. There are tears in the fabric where milky skin peeks through. "Green Goblin...are you alright?"

"Oh," Spider-Man breathes. He seems surprised that Donghyuck bothered to express concern. "Yeah, yeah, it wasn't anything I haven't faced from him before, so...I'm okay."

“Okay,” Donghyuck says slowly. “So why are you _ here_?”

Spider-Man seems to blanch at that. “Uh,” he says eloquently. “That’s a good question.”

Donghyuck raises an eyebrow. “You went all the way from the uni _ back _ to my apartment _ after _ turning that Collider shindig off, and don’t even have a reason _ why__?_”

“Look,” Spider-Man says hastily. “I had to make sure you were, like, _fine_, and not passed out from shock, or something.”

Donghyuck squints at the other man. “You _ reek _of bullshit, Spider-Boy.”

“Man! Spider-_Man__!_” The superhero corrects, his voice strung high with frustration. 

“My apologies,” Donghyuck says, biting back a grin. “Your manliness should never be underestimated, you great _ masculine _ man.”

“Ha-ha,” Spider-Man bites back. “Look, I saved your life, and went to the trouble of checking up on you after the fact when I _ should _be headed to Avengers’ tower. You don’t exactly seem appreciative.”

“Who said I _wasn’t?”_ Donghyuck frowns. “Mark never mentioned that I’m annoying?”

“Nope,” Spider-Man is quick to respond. “Nope, he definitely did.”

Donghyuck rolls his eyes. “Alright, then.” He sighs, and slumps forward, resting his arms along the ledge. “I _ do _appreciate you doing all of that. And...I don’t know, thank you? Shouldn’t that go unsaid?”

Spider-Man deflates, and Donghyuck backtracks quickly. “Wait, um, yes, thank you. Really, Spider-Man.”

“It’s no big deal,” is the painfully arrogant yet humble reply which has Donghyuck rolling his eyes again.

“That’ll be the only time I inflate your ego, Spider-Boy.”

Spider-Man sighs. “Well, that was nice while it lasted.” Donghyuck giggles. A pregnant pause hangs in the air, like a giant bubble threatening to pop. Donghyuck kind of wants to preserve it. It’s not every day he gets to annoy his favorite Avenger from the comfort of his own bedroom. It almost makes him forget the chaotic day they’ve both had.

But what Donghyuck wants, as proven by his _ eons _ long crush on his childhood best friend, he seems to never get. “Well,” Spider-Man says, bursting the bubble. “I think I have to go now…”

Donghyuck nods, drawing back from the window. Suddenly, he remembers something. “Wait!”

“Yes?”

“You said you evacuated the lab, right?”

“Yes…”

“But,” Donghyuck frowns, crossing his arms. “I went down there not even ten minutes after the quakes started. And, the door—the door was blasted open and everything—but that’s besides the point. I was going down to the labs while everyone else was going up to the lobby.”

Spider-Man says nothing.

“Shouldn’t I have _ seen _ Mark?” Donghyuck presses on.

“It…” Spider-Man pauses. “It was crowded, right? And stressful—”

“Synonyms, but continue.”

Spider-Man sighs. “Donghyuck,” he says gently. “I swore to you that everything was going to be alright. Remember?”

Donghyuck nods jerkily, his mind jumping back to _ the moment_. “Yeah…”

“So, trust me, yeah? I promise you, Mark got out.”

Donghyuck sighs in defeat. “I won’t really believe it ‘til I see his stupid face with my own two eyes, but, okay. I trust you, Spider-Boy.”

“Thanks,” Spider-Man says. “Why were you headed down to the labs, anyway?”

“To find Mark,” Donghyuck responds easily, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Spider-Man visibly falters. “And...you had _ no _idea what was actually happening—you just went down there without a clue?”

“Yeah,” Donghyuck says airily. “What, are you gonna call me _ reckless_, now, Spider-Mom?”

“Shut up,” the hero says, a smile heard in the way his voice lilts, before he becomes serious again. “It’s just...you were risking your life, Donghyuck. For him.”

“Trust me,” Donghyuck chuckles nervously as heat rises to his cheeks. “I’m surprised, too, but...yeah. Yeah, he means that much to me.”

The silence returns with a vengeance, and the two men stare at each other. Or, Spider-Man stares at Donghyuck while Donghyuck stares at his reflection in Spider-Man’s mask-eyes. Their effect is similar to that of a fish-eye camera, which makes Donghyuck crack a smile.

“You done interrogating me, now?”

“Right!” Spider-Man straightens up. “Um. Yeah, things to do. Away from here.”

“Well, get going then. Or, swinging, I guess. By the way, fuck you for that. _ Never _ doing that again, I don’t care if I die next time.”

“Jesus, Donghyuck, stop talking like there’s gonna be a next time,” Spider-Man says.

“We live in New York, man.”

“Right,” Spider-Man laughs. “The universe’s sweet spot for catastrophe.”

Donghyuck shakes his head at the interaction, oddly fond over the hilarity of it all. He pitches his chin forward, _ Go_, before turning around. He’s at the edge of his bed when Spider-Man speaks again.

“Hey, Donghyuck?”

Donghyuck turns to the sound of his voice, no longer disguised by a lower pitch. It’s become part of the reason Donghyuck finds himself feeling strangely comfortable around the other man. “Yes?”

The air shifts, and though he can’t see it, Donghyuck is almost positive that Spider-Man is grinning beneath his mask.

“See you around!” The hero shouts before letting go of the windowsill and flinging himself backwards into the night. Donghyuck hears the _ thwip thwip _ of the superhero swinging before he reaches the window. He sees him again, vibrant against the nighttime city lights. He disappears quicker than before, swinging around a building just one block away. 

“See you, Spider-Boy,” Donghyuck says to the space between the buildings. He slides his window shut for the second and last time that night with a sigh.

In one simple moment, Donghyuck sags with the weight of the day’s events. Every single heightened emotion he felt squeezes his heart all at once and the physical exertion he’d exhibited makes itself known in the way he notices all of the uncomfortable places his shirt sticks to. With a grimace and great difficulty, he peels the offensive garment off, careful to make sure he doesn’t jostle his camera in fear of damaging it further. He gingerly lays the shirt over his desk chair, and then searches for something else, something _ clean _ to wear. His eyes snag on a pink t-shirt peeking out of his gaping drawers and he quickly puts it on. Once he does, he realizes that it’s Mark’s shirt and lets out a wet laugh. He resists bringing the fabric up to his nose.

Donghyuck collapses onto his bed with his limbs sprawled out, like a starfish, and lets himself sink into the mattress. He sinks into his thoughts, diving between meeting Spider-Man to a loop of Mark’s name. Donghyuck stares, wide-eyed and buzzing with—what? Adrenaline? Stress? Whatever it is, it’s got his muscles rigid and his heart beating jack rabbit quick. He hates to think about how truly _common_ catastrophe was for him and his city. He vividly remembers the aftermath of the Battle of New York, how he shook whenever an airplane or helicopter hovered overhead. How it took him _weeks_ to even consider visiting the newly reconstructed shops and parks that had been destroyed in the battle. Today, he's strangely at peace with the fact that he could have almost died. He thinks that if he had, it wouldn't have been for nothing. <strike>Because there is nothing more precious to Donghyuck than his most cherished friend.</strike>

He’s as close to being calm as he can be, his eyes slowly sliding shut after several minutes of deep thinking, when he hears a familiar jangle of keys, followed by the front door of his apartment unlocking.

Donghyuck bolts upright so fast he’s _ sure _ he’s pulled something in his neck. He’s up and off the bed, halfway to his bedroom door, when it flies open and his heart stops.

He meets warm eyes over the distance and manages a smile, albeit a bit wobbly; but, he’s keeping up his streak.

“Donghyuck,” Mark breathes out, his voice raspy and tight with emotion. Donghyuck really takes him in; there’s a blooming bruise on his left cheek and his hair is stuck to his forehead in sweaty tendrils. He’s wearing the same outfit from when he left the house this morning, but, understandably, it appears a bit more rumpled. His eyes are glassy, bloodshot, but unwavering in their earnest as they bore into Donghyuck.

Donghyuck’s smile falters to a semi-pout as he willfully ignores the stinging behind his eyelids. “Hey, you,” he whispers, and then, Mark’s bag is being thrown across the room and the older boy crosses the gap to Donghyuck, gathering him in his arms. Donghyuck hugs him back, resting his head against the other’s and breathing in.

To amend: the dark room, to Donghyuck, is a _ third _ home. The second home is, obviously, these very walls of his and Mark’s apartment. His _ home_, however, has a bad habit of picking at his hangnails whenever he’s stressed, smells like fabric softener and hand cream, and always laughs too loudly, for too long. 

Donghyuck hugs him tighter and melts against him, breathing out.

“Are you alright?” Mark asks into Donghyuck’s hair, and Donghyuck shivers at the feeling.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, drawing back to look at Mark. “You can’t say the same,” he whispers as he tilts Mark’s chin up, inspecting the bruise on his cheek and the smaller cuts now visible to him because of their close proximity. “Does that hurt?” Donghyuck’s fingers ghost over the bruise, and his heart twists at the way Mark flinches away slightly.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Mark assures him. “Promise.”

“At least let me get some ice for it—”

“Donghyuck,” Mark whines. “It’s just a bump, it’ll go down in no time, okay?”

“Fine,” Donghyuck huffs, and the two of them fall silent. He’s been absentmindedly playing with the hair on Mark’s nape up until this pause, where he’s reminded of how close they’re standing. Donghyuck blushes and steps back, putting more distance between them.

Mark won’t stop staring at him with this unreadable, but raw expression, that makes Donghyuck self conscious. “What? Do _ I _have a bruise on my face?”

“No,” Mark breathes out. “No, thank God. You’re alright, Duckie.”

At this, Donghyuck shoves Mark’s shoulder, effectively putting space between them. The tender moment they'd been sharing evaporates into thin air. “Fuck _ off _ and let that dumb kiddie nickname _ go_, Mark Lee!”

“Hey!” Mark says, trying to come off angry but giggling as he speaks either way. “The world almost _ ended _ today, and you still won’t be nice to me?”

“Why should I be, huh?” Donghyuck responds haughtily, crossing his arms. “You wouldn't even answer your phone! I thought you were _dead_, asshole."

Mark softens at this, a frown tugging his lips downwards. Donghyuck immediately regrets opening his mouth. "I'm sorry," Mark says, regret and guilt weighing his inflection down.

"Hey," Donghyuck says, sheepish. "It's okay. You were probably running for your life, or something."

A ghost of a smile spreads across Mark's face. "Yeah. Or something."

The silence that follows is awkward for Donghyuck, so he plows on, voice airy with slyness in a hope to lighten the suddenly dim mood. "So, when the hell were you gonna tell me you were schmoozing with _ Spider-Man_, Mark? When the two of you moved in together?”

Mark sputters, taken aback. “Dude!”

“I don’t hear you denying anything,” Donghyuck sing-songs, grinning.

“We are _ acquaintances_,” Mark insists. “I was just feeding him information and insight about the lab I use.”

Donghyuck squints. “He said the exact same thing. _ How _did you two meet?”

“Well, you’re one to talk. You’re saying all of this and it sounds like _ you’ve _met him, too.”

“Yeah,” Donghyuck admits. “He saved my life today,” he says for the second time.

Mark smiles, something that’s meant to be close-lipped but is wide enough that Donghyuck can see his teeth peeking through the grin. “Guess I’ll have to thank him, then. If you died, I’d have to eat take-out for the rest of my life and then _ I’d _die from inevitable food poisoning.”

Donghyuck doesn’t hesitate to smack Mark’s arm, receiving a whiny _ Ow! _ in response. He tries to get another hit in, but Mark’s annoyingly good reflexes beat him to the punch and he grabs Donghyuck’s wrist in his hand. The grip loosens just as fast as it appears, and Mark is left casually holding Donghyuck’s wrist while they stand there in his bedroom, staring at each other with dumb smiles on their faces. And in this one, small, beautiful moment, it’s easy for Donghyuck to forget that the world _ did _almost end that day, and even more frightening to once again think about how close he was to giving himself up for the boy across from him. But what was truly unsettling, was that he knew he would do it again in a heartbeat, easily.

<strike>He has no clue that Mark is thinking the exact same thing.</strike>

“So,” Mark says, breaking the comfortable silence with the following, daunting word. “Bed?”

“Bed?” Donghyuck echoes dumbly, confusion drawing his eyebrows closer together.

“Yeah, the thing you sleep in, dummy.” Mark shakes his head and tugs at Donghyuck’s wrist. “Aren’t you tired?”

“Well, yeah,” Donghyuck responds slowly, trying to understand why Mark was steering him towards his bed. Surely…?

“You’re sure you don’t wanna sleep in your own room?” Donghyuck asks in a panic, but Mark has already laid down on the bed, dragging Donghyuck down with him.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Mark asks in response, a goofy smile on his face as he lies on his side. Donghyuck shifts so that they’re face to face.

“Yeah, here you are.” Bewilderment over _ Mark _ instigating this bed-sharing trumps any romantic sentiment worming its way into Donghyuck’s senses, but he schools his expression. “Sweaty and stinky and now I have to do laundry tomorrow because of you, _ thanks_.”

“You’re also sweaty and stinky,” Mark points out. “And I’ll help you do laundry, you don’t need to complain. Now _ sleep._” Mark closes his eyes.

“Mark…” Donghyuck sighs after a moment, and earns a grunt in response. “Shoes,” he sits up to toe his own sneakers off, and feels the weight on the mattress shift as Mark does the same next to him. He feels eyes on him once he’s done. “Haven’t you done enough staring?” Donghyuck squints at Mark and hopes to _ God _ his face isn’t as red as it is warm.

Mark, to Donghyuck’s horror, shakes his head. “You’re wearing my shirt.” He says simply.

“And the Earth revolves around the sun,” Donghyuck deadpans and leans back onto his elbows. “Go to sleep, idiot. The earthquakes clearly jumbled your brain.”

Mark rolls his eyes, but lies back down anyway. “My brain is _ fine_, you brat.”

Donghyuck grins and leans over to flick Mark on the forehead. Mark pinches his waist in retaliation, and Donghyuck yelps. They fall into giggles, and then into a quiet moment where Mark openly stares at Donghyuck as the other boy settles into his former position.

In the dark, Mark grabs Donghyuck’s hand. Their fingers twine and their joined hands rest between their bodies. Donghyuck feels like he’s being burned from the inside out, starting from the chambers of his heart to the very tips of his fingers where his contact with Mark begins. He hopes Mark doesn’t notice the way he’s blushing from head to toe.

“G’night, Duckie,” Mark mumbles and his eyes slip shut.

“Night,” Donghyuck echoes in a whisper, but keeps his eyes open. He stays awake for some time, long after Mark’s breathing has gone even. He watches the way the moonlight and shadows of the night bounce off of Mark’s features, softening them and sharpening them respectively. Donghyuck’s heart is in his throat by the eleventh time he’s traced Mark’s lips with his eyes.

Fatigue inevitably bests him. Before his own eyes shut for the night, Donghyuck leans forward slightly, close enough to count Mark’s lashes, if he wanted to. But, he doesn’t. What he does is press his lips against the bruise sitting on Mark’s cheekbone; a feather-light kiss, and an unspoken wish for Mark to never get hurt again. He draws back, and closes his eyes with a smile on his face.

As Donghyuck slips into unconsciousness, his own bruise awakens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading!! see you (hopefully soon) for chapter two ♡  
[twitter](https://twitter.com/yibostellium) || [cc](https://curiouscat.me/tracer85)


	2. home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Objectively, the easy back and forth between him and Mark should be a very welcome distraction for Donghyuck, given his current emotional turmoil; but, he was also pathetically in <strike>love</strike> like with the other man, which turned something that should be helpful to him, into something that makes him feel helpless, instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **PLEASE READ THIS AUTHOR'S NOTE IT IS IMPORTANT!!!!! THANK YOU.**
> 
>   
**ITEM 1/4: YOU**  
first and foremost, thank you all for your feedback and kind words on the first chapter. the hits increased every day and it made me feel so happy and awed to know people liked my story so much already. thank you 3000 ♡
> 
> **ITEM 2/4: TAGS & (FUTURE) RATING UPDATE !!!!!!!!!!!!!**  
from this chapter forward, the story will get darker. eventually, i will have to increase the rating to M for mature and update the archive warning for depictions of violence, and i will add warning tags as we go. i am saying this in advance because i do not want anyone to be shocked or triggered. if you have not already noticed the updated tags for this chapter, i will be explicit about what to look out for: there is mention of past drug abuse/addiction and a car accident starting from the sentence, **[ “So,” Jeno sighs. ]** and ending with, **[ Jeno nods, pursing his lips into an almost-smile. ]**  
this pertains to one of the characters, and is essential to his arc; however, YOUR well being is far more important to me than how well you understand my story. if these topics make you uncomfortable or trigger you, skip that section. this goes for EVERY chapter where i tag a sensitive topic. feel free to comment or contact me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/hyuckworld)/[cc](http://curiouscat.me/sonofmusic) if you have any questions about this.
> 
> **ITEM 3/4: visuals**  
something that irked me when i started writing this story was the fact that i had absolutely no clue what they looked like. which mh era was this, visually? and i have decided...i tweeted about it [here](https://twitter.com/hyuckworld/status/1160707288644108288) and [here](https://twitter.com/hyuckworld/status/1162215535867658240)!! this is just how i personally see them when i write them. if you guys see them differently, that's fine too. we share this story.
> 
> **ITEM 4/4: update frequency**  
i am aware that it has been WEEKS since i uploaded that first chapter :( i tried to set a deadline for chapter two's release, but it stressed me out more than anything, so i scrapped that and decided to go with the flow. that being said, school started shortly after that first deadline was supposed to be met, and i only have a few moments between my studies and work to write for fun. BUT, i have already outlined the third chapter well in advance, so hopefully that saves everyone some waiting time. thank you for being patient. i hope my work is always worth the wait.
> 
> now sappy time:
> 
> thank you [val](https://twitter.com/tyongito), mi girasol 🌻 you are amazing. thank you for staying up with me til ass oclock and for ur jokes and corrections. thank you for being such a good beta and an even better friend. you are WONDERFUL.
> 
> thank you [amy](https://twitter.com/_6oos), my darling boosadan. you have inspired many parts of this story and were always there to read something new that i wrote and support my three minute long, hysterical audio messages about my ideas, AND also stayed up with me until six am...what can i say. i LOVE YOU amington. if u put boo and uji together does that make us bad and boujee? 😔
> 
> thank you [JENN](https://twitter.com/j9emin) for making [this](https://twitter.com/j9emin/status/1172956026657751040) edit inspired by this story. u are freaking awesome. i love u so much.
> 
> thank you to ALL of my friends who support me and my work...you guys motivate me every day. ily.
> 
> and lastly, thank YOU, readers and commenters and bookmarkers and kudo givers. you make this story possible :-)
> 
> now ENOUGH of me talking. what's donghyuck up to in this chapter, huh? ;-) i hope you all like it!!! happy reading!!! and REMEMBER: TRIGGER WARNING FROM **[ “So,” Jeno sighs. ]** TO **[ Jeno nods, pursing his lips into an almost-smile. ]**  
. that is all. love u.  
-zee
> 
> p.s. im stupid and forewent ever mentioning the Important fact that these characters are aged up? JUST added the tag too...00line are 21—blip not counted—to set the standard. age gaps are the same in relation to them (mark is 22, which makes jisung 19, etc...) sorry!!!! now you know :]

_ Cold_. 

The goosebumps on his skin and the unwelcome lack of heat are the first things Donghyuck registers when he wakes up. He opens his eyes, squinting against the midday sun, and then he realizes _ why _he’s so cold. The other side of his bed is empty. There’s no point in feeling disappointed over this, since he and Mark _ live _together, and he can hear the shower running from Mark’s room on the other side of the apartment. 

(Thanks to Donghyuck’s sleep-addled brain, this development in his senses goes unnoticed for the time being.)

Nevertheless, Donghyuck feels a twinge of disappointment at the fact that he didn’t get to relish in the rarity that was waking up beside Mark Lee, but he squashes it. He pushes himself up onto his elbows and yawns, rubbing at his eyes with his fist. He fumbles around in his bed sheets until his hand closes around his phone. Blearily, he opens it to check the time. **12:47 P.M. **Shortly after, his phone screen goes black and the device becomes unresponsive. Donghyuck sighs and drops his phone back onto the sheets with a groan.

The next thing he registers is the _ pounding _ headache he has.

_ Geez. You’d think I was hungover or something for my head to be throbbing like this… _

Donghyuck pauses amidst another yawn, hand awkwardly curled in front of his slack jaw, the sheer volume of his own thoughts catching him off guard. _ Have my thoughts always been this loud? _ He shakes his head as if to rid it of the unwelcome noise, and groans as he swings his legs over the edge of his bed. He and Mark had foregone changing out of their earthquake attire before falling asleep last night, and, after allowing himself one pathetic moment to smile at the memory, Donghyuck begins to regret falling asleep in skinny jeans—which, upon closer inspection, appear to be tighter _ and _ shorter than they were the previous day.

_ Huh, _ Donghyuck’s voice echoes in his head. _ This is really bizarre. _

He doesn’t spend too long dwelling on this, and opts for peeling the constricting denim off his body and switching it out for a pair of cotton sweats (also too short). He keeps Mark’s shirt on. Once he’s changed, Donghyuck heads towards the sound of running water.

He’s outside Mark’s bathroom door, ready to barge in, unannounced, like he normally would just to annoy Mark. Today, he doesn’t do that. He thinks of the look Mark had in his eyes last night, when he was looking at _ Donghyuck_, and it makes him falter. Donghyuck’s hand, where it had been raised above the door knob, drops unceremoniously onto it. He leans his shoulder against the door. 

“Mark?” He calls out, hoping it can be heard over the shower.

“Yeah?” Is the almost immediate response that brings a smile to his face.

“Morning. Just have to make sure you haven’t used up the building’s hot water yet.”

“I am _ definitely _ not the one who needs to worry about doing that,” Mark replies.

He shakes his head, even though he knows Mark won’t see it, and chuckles quietly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he sing-songs.

“Whatever!” Mark laughs. “Classes are cancelled for the rest of the week, in case you haven’t seen that yet.”

Donghyuck straightens up. “Seriously? Thank fucking _ God_.”

“Yeah, so,” the shower stops running and Mark’s voice carries through the door much clearer now, “I was thinking we could order take-out and just have a lazy day inside—unless you had other plans?”

“Me? A college kid, post-crisis? Yeah, my calendar is just _ packed._”

“Alright then,” Mark says, ignoring Donghyuck’s sarcasm. “I’ll be out in a sec, so you can go ahead and order whatever you want.”

Donghyuck smirks. “You’re giving me too much power, Mark Lee!” He pushes himself off the door and starts to walk away as he hears Mark’s echoed laughter from within the bathroom. But, to his bewilderment and subsequent dismay, his hand won’t budge from the door knob, and he’s stuck in place.

“What the hell,” he mutters as Mark says, “No, no, it’s not _ power_…”

He tries and tries, wrapping his free hand around the wrist of his other hand to break free from this mysterious entrapment, but to no avail. His hand is _ stuck _ to the knob. To his horror, the door knob turns, and his hand along with it.

Mark is saying, “It’s more like _ trust_,” when he pulls the door open, and Donghyuck, tugged along by the motion and the fact that his hand is _ stuck _ to said door, trips, and comes face to face with his best friend who is donning nothing but a towel around his waist. Upon being startled, Mark’s hand moves, out of pure instinct, to secure the towel and his eyes widen in surprise. The steam from inside the bathroom spills out into the doorway, surrounding them. 

Mark exclaims, “Woah!” when he sees Donghyuck mere centimeters in front of him, and grabs onto his arm with his free hand in the same breath. “What’re you still doing out here?”

“I’m _ trying_,” he huffs. Mark’s grip on his arm and his other hand still being stuck to the doorknob making his attempt to move away futile. In this moment, he wishes he’d never left his bed. It doesn’t help that his thoughts are still obnoxiously loud, ringing in his head. _ Stupid. Just take your fucking hand off! _

“It’s stuck,” he says simply, through gritted teeth, and hangs his head. “I-I don’t know how—I can’t take it _ off_—”

“What do you mean ‘stuck’?” Mark angles his head to try to catch Donghyuck’s gaze, but he is insistent on avoiding all eye contact. It’d only stoke his embarrassment further. “Donghyuck?” Mark glances back at where his other arm is stretched out, and sees the way it’s curled around the knob. He turns back to him just as he is raising his head back up. Mark frowns.

“Was there glue on there?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Mark, _ why _would there be glue on your bathroom’s fucking _ doorknob_?!” Donghyuck snaps. “Wouldn’t I have noticed if there was?!”

“Okay!” Mark replies hastily, cutting in before he has the chance to _ really _ lose his temper. “Okay, Donghyuck, calm down. Can you do that?”

“Calm down?” He repeats the question, incredulous as ever. _ I can’t believe I’m pining over a fucking idiot. _ “How am I supposed to do that, exactly? Hell-_o, _ my _ hand_—”

“I know!” Mark cuts him off, moving his hand from Donghyuck’s arm to the juncture between his neck and shoulder. If the steam around them and embarrassment of the situation weren’t already causing him to go red, Donghyuck knows that he would’ve started blushing from that point of contact alone. “Hyuck, I know, your hand. Yes. Don’t think about that right now, just...seriously, calm down.”

“Is meditation gonna unstick my hand, Minhyung?” He knows it’s low of him to bring out Mark’s Korean name, given that nobody besides the boy’s mother was ever allowed to call him that, and _ almost _ regrets doing so when Mark scowls at him. Almost.

Mark sighs, and Donghyuck can tell from that sound that Mark was letting the name thing slide. “Donghyuck,” he pleads, “Do whatever you need to do to relax. Please? Can you do that for me?”

They stare at each other. Donghyuck’s eyes glaze over Mark’s face, briefly noticing how much the bruise on his cheek had gone down overnight. Memories of a drowsy kiss emerge at the forefront of his mind, and his eyes quickly move from that bruise to the bruise-colored circles under Mark’s eyes. Exhaustion is always present on the other boy’s face. _ Stupid hard-worker_, he thinks as his gaze flicks up from the dark circles to round brown eyes and the mole on Mark’s left eyelid. The intensity of the eye contact is what makes Donghyuck cave, but he makes sure his surrender doesn’t show on his face; he simply shuts his eyes and breathes out.

Behind his eyelids, he still sees Mark, doe eyed, glistening, _ pretty_. But now, he picks up on everything else. The steam that had made him blush now makes goosebumps rise on his skin, and he can smell the body-wash-shampoo combo Mark uses. Green apple this time; he’s never anal about buying the same scent every time as long as the brand is the same. (Donghyuck’s personal favorite is cherry.) He takes a deep breath in. He lets the scents and sounds and the warmth of the moment warp the film reel turning in his mind, and the Mark of this morning dissolves into the Mark of last night. Pliant. Soft. Dangerously open. Confusing to no end. Still beautiful to him, but in a rarer form.

He’s calm now, but barely registering it. His heartbeat slows as his skin unsticks from the brass, and he sucks in a sharp breath when he feels calloused fingers brush against his knuckles, and slip into the gaps between his own.

Donghyuck’s eyes fly open. He blinks rapidly and tears his hand out of Mark’s before he can even look at the sight of their fingers intertwined. Holding hands at night, in the dark, after a long, arduous day, was one thing. Holding hands in the daylight when it’s just the two of them standing a breath away from one another, with bathroom fluorescence serving as an unnecessary spotlight—that's another thing entirely, and he has enough on his plate already without Mark Lee getting inside his head.

He cradles his now unstuck hand in his _ normal _ one, and catches Mark’s eye from under his lashes. He’s still frowning, and it makes Donghyuck avert his eyes. “Sorry,” he rasps out. “That was weird…” He shuffles back as discreetly as he can, fully intent on getting the hell out of there, but _ of course_, he never gets what he sets out for.

Mark grabs onto his wrist—the one attached to his sticky hand, Donghyuck’s mind so unhelpfully supplies—and he looks up in confusion as the other boy tugs him back. Mark, frown seemingly etched onto his expression indefinitely, starts to examine his face. Donghyuck feels and sees the way the other boy’s gaze rakes over his features, almost as if he were searching for something—an answer, a clue. To what, he doesn't know. All the while, his headache only seems to worsen.

“You’re sweating, Donghyuck,” Mark finally says. He’s still scowling, and it unnerves him. He rarely ever sees such a _ dark _ look on Mark’s face whenever he gets serious. 

Donghyuck chuckles nervously, trying to lighten the mood. “Uh, maybe because of the shower steam? Think, McFly, think.” Donghyuck’s reference falls flat, mostly because he can’t bring himself to do something as inappropriate for this situation as _ knocking _on Mark’s head, but also due to the fact that Mark doesn’t laugh—and Mark always laughs at his jokes, no matter how lame or outdated.

“No, it’s not the steam,” Mark mutters as he shakes his head, and brings his free hand up to Donghyuck’s forehead, pushing his palm flat underneath his bangs. He holds his breath. _ What’s up with you, Mark Lee? _

“You’re burning up, Hyuck,” Mark speaks in a low voice, but Donghyuck picks up fear in between the murmurs. “Do you feel sick?”

Donghyuck wants so badly to ask Mark to _ define sick_, because if _ sick _ means his pounding headache and sticky hands and amplified thoughts, then he is _more_ than happy to suggest a quarantine.

“No,” he says instead, the lie falling off of his lips like pine cones off of a tree. He’d have to be careful not to shake the trunk too much, lest more fall down and hit his head. “I feel fine.”

“You don’t _ look _ fine,” Mark sighs, stepping over every lie as he sees straight through him. “Go to your room and I’ll take your temperature once I’ve changed.”

Donghyuck wrinkles his nose in confusion, thoroughly affronted by the sudden change in Mark’s demeanor. “You’re sending me to my room?” He asks incredulously. 

Mark sighs, rolling his eyes. “When you put it like _ that_—”

“No, _ you _ put it like that,” he snaps. “I’m not a _ child_, Mark. I told you, I feel fine.” Donghyuck is aware, contrary to his own words, that he is acting like a petulant child. Mark _ treating _ him as such doesn’t help his bad attitude. This tension paired with the storm brewing in his veins, the eye of it right on the knuckle of his thumb, puts him one sharp word away from blowing a fuse.

Mark, being Donghyuck’s best friend since _ forever_, makes him a resident expert in his mood spectrum, and he senses that his patience is wearing thin. So, he tries a different approach. 

“Please?” He asks softly, the lines of his face going slack and his pinky finding a resting spot curled around Donghyuck’s. “I _ just _ want to make sure you aren’t actually sick. Then I’ll let you pick whatever we do today, not just the food.”

To any onlooker—of which there are none at the moment, thankfully—this scene would appear disgustingly domestic, and normally, he would be painfully aware of that fact and do the absolute most to distance his own feelings from the gigantic heart on Mark Lee’s sleeve. Right now, caught in a whirlwind of those very feelings and the exhaustion still thrumming through him from the previous day’s events and the unexpected tango between his hand and a doorknob mere minutes ago, Donghyuck finds that he can not bring himself to care about how they look. He’s far too enthralled by the way Mark is looking at him—yet again—and lets himself fall into that gaze, his mountain of worries falling to dust within one moment, with one small word of acceptance.

“Fine,” he assents. Mark gives him a smile, a smile he recognizes as something exclusive to his eyes alone, something small in size but grand in radiance, and overwhelmingly warm. He tears his gaze away before any of his own emotions become apparent on his face, and turns on his heel, leaving his beating heart behind him. “Still think that’s not power?” He throws over his shoulder with a grin that quivers at the corners, and hopes Mark doesn’t notice his uneasiness. Mark grins back at him and shakes his head, making a _ shoo _motion with his hands.

He rolls his eyes and _ really _ leaves, moving quickly back to his room. Once he’s there, he shuts the door, locking it and then immediately leaning his back against it and heaving a sigh. He presses his palms flat against the wood.

He can hear his pulse in his ears and it drowns out his thoughts for one, peaceful moment. _ Fuck. _ His own voice rings out once his heartbeat starts to slow to its normal pace and he drags a hand over his face and back up again, weaving his fingers into his hair. He realizes with a grimace that _ he _needs a shower. He drops his hand against the door again.

His own mundane thoughts stay for no longer than a moment, as he realizes that he can _ still _ hear his heart beating away in his chest. He hears the way it picks up its pace again, clear as day, upon his realization. 

This is _ new. _And terrifying. 

Donghyuck lets out a shaky breath. _ What the fuck is happening to me? _He thinks over the _ thumpthumpthump _of his heart.

He lets his eyes fall shut and does what he did mere minutes ago. He hates to admit that getting back to that calm mindset is harder without Mark nearby, but he manages it anyway. He’s safely back inside his mind palace with glittering doe eyes and the scent of green apples, and he starts to _ wish. _

He wishes his body back to normalcy. He wishes his mind to _ quiet down_. He wishes he and Mark had a normal friendship—or, rather, _ he _ had a normal friendship with _ Mark, _ because Mark is always nothing but genuine and kind to him in the way friends who _ aren’t _ in <strike>love </strike> _ like _with each other are, whereas Donghyuck is selfish; selfish for wanting the things he shouldn’t: words that will never be exchanged, touches that will never be shared—

His eyes fly open. He breathes out and he feels a bead of sweat trickle down his brow. His heart is still going a mile a minute. “I’ve made it worse,” he sighs. 

The knock on the door and the voice that follows it make him jump, but he lands right back on the door with a thud. His palms haven’t budged. 

_ Shit. This can not be happening again. _

“Donghyuck?” Mark calls through the door. “Are you alright?” 

He would respond, if he wasn’t preoccupied with how _ both _ of his hands were stuck to the door now. “Shit,” he hisses.

“Hyuck,” Mark drags the nickname out, and his voice is much closer than before. He can just imagine the way he’s leaning his head against the door, and the frown creasing his features. The doorknob rattles, and Donghyuck feels it in his palms.

“Give me a minute,” he calls out hastily, and says the first thing that comes to mind to try to justify why he won’t (read: _ can’t_) let Mark in. “I’m, uh, naked.” He winces at his own lame excuse—he and Mark have known each other for nearly two decades. For any level of nudity to become an issue _ now_, when they’re both in college and _ living together_, would mean that their friendship was moving backwards.

“Oh,” Mark says, and that’s all he says for a moment, probably wondering about Donghyuck’s response in the same manner he was. “Well, um, give me a shout whenever you’re _ not _ naked and I’ll come in to take your temperature.”

He bites down onto his lower lip to trap a grunt from escaping as he tugs and tugs himself away from the door. The motions are futile; his fingertips have practically become one with the door.

“Okay?” Mark calls out again, and Donghyuck rolls his eyes. _ Why won’t he _ leave _ already?! _

“Okay,” he huffs, and listens for the soft sound of socked feet against the floor as Mark walks away. Donghyuck elects to ignore how much his senses are picking up in favor of focusing on getting his hands unstuck. 

An imaginary lightbulb switches on above his head as he wonders if he might achieve more success by taking it one hand at a time. _ Maybe even one finger at a time_.

With that idea in mind, he shuts his eyes again and breathes in. He starts with his right pinky and goes from there.

It takes several minutes, and several instances of having to conjure up a mental image of Mark telling him to _ Relax. Can you do that for me? _ But, lo and behold, he manages to free his right hand on his very own. It detaches from the door and he heaves a sigh, bringing his arm around his waist and turning to face the door, where his left hand remained.

Then, the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. There’s a knock on his door.

“Aren’t you dressed yet?” Mark whines from behind it.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Donghyuck swears under his breath. The gears in his head are turning at lightning speed and his cheeks are aflame as he pulls <strike>his</strike> Mark’s shirt over his head—as swiftly as he can with only one hand available. He bunches the rest of the shirt up where it gets stuck at his left wrist. Hopefully, if he plays his cards right, Mark won’t even make it past the door frame. He doesn’t even know how he’d begin to explain getting stuck a _ second _ time.

He takes a deep breath in, steels himself, and unlocks the door.

“Halfway there,” he says as he swings the door open. He ignores the reediness in his voice and the way Mark’s eyes immediately widen behind the glasses sitting on his nose. He thought it would be impossible, but his cheeks get even hotter.

“Let’s just get this over with,” he sighs and gestures to the thermometer Mark is wielding with a white knuckle grip.

“Right,” he responds, and fumbles with the instrument in his hands. Wordlessly, Donghyuck lets his jaw go slack and only clicks it shut once Mark has placed the thermometer under his tongue. When Mark moves forward in an attempt to step past him and into his room, Donghyuck is prepared.

He shakes his head frantically and presses his hand against Mark’s chest, firm. “No,” he says with a mouthful of thermometer, his words rounded out and slurred because of the obstructive tool between his lips. “If I’m sick, _ you’ll _ get sick.” (His _ sick _ ends up sounding a lot closer to _ shick._)

Mark frowns. “Dude. We slept in the same bed last night. I think it’s a little too late for me to play it safe.”

Donghyuck takes a second to marvel at the way Mark’s ears redden the more he speaks, but shakes his head again when the other boy tries to move past him. “_No_,” he repeats.

Mark sighs in defeat and steps back, having no patience to argue with a stubborn Donghyuck. “Fine.” Internally, Donghyuck cheers.

The minutes tick by with both of them challenging one another in a staring contest. Donghyuck, to the best of his ability, smirks in victory when Mark blinks. The smile soon fades as Mark raises his hand, palm up, and curls his fingers in quick succession. _ Give_, he says wordlessly, and Donghyuck complies, pulling the thermometer out of his mouth and depositing it into Mark’s hand. Mark lifts it up to his face, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose before they slide completely off, and scrutinizes the minuscule numbers on the tool.

“104...” He murmurs, then looks at Donghyuck. “How are you even standing up right now?”

“Power,” he smirks, but his heart starts beating a little quicker at the way panic tugs the pitch of Mark’s voice higher.

“No, Donghyuck, seriously, this can’t be right,” Mark presses. “Apparently you’re _ way _ sicker than you look.”

Donghyuck shrugs, hoping to _ God _ he’s projecting enough nonchalance to calm Mark down, but not too much to piss him off. “Well, numbers don’t lie. I guess I’m just too sexy to look sick.”

“Shut up, idiot,” Mark retorts, and a grin flickers across his features momentarily. His expression quickly melts back into something serious. “You should just, like, rest today. I mean, getting sick, especially after everything that happened yesterday...you could use a nap.” Mark bites his lip and furrows his brow, and then a smile lights up his eyes, smoothes any worry off of his features. “And a shower,” he adds in a rush, sass injected into his voice. “I hate to break it to you, but the only thing hot about you right now is your temperature,” he says through giggles.

“God,” he groans and makes a dramatic show of rolling his eyes, because he knows Mark’s making a fool out of himself for _ his _ sake, and it’s only fair for him to play along. “You are such a cornball.” Mark’s full on laughing at this point, and Donghyuck is helpless to the sound and sight of it. He mirrors his best friend’s grin. “The lamest, most unfunny, most unoriginal, _loser_—”

“Ouch,” Mark exclaims, holding a hand to his heart. “You really know how to shoot a fella down.”

“Shut _ up! _” He swats at Mark’s hand where it rests on his chest. “Get out of here, dumbass, before I get you sick.”

“Okay, okay,” Mark says, his voice still lilting with amusement. He starts to back away, keeping his body faced towards Donghyuck. “Put a shirt on,” he says, nodding at his bare torso but making a point to keep his eyes fixed on his face. Donghyuck, immediately becoming self conscious, wraps his arm around his chest and scowls at Mark. “You’re sick. Cover up.”

“Got it, boss,” Donghyuck lifts his hand in a lazy salute, and waits for Mark to turn his back before he shuts the door. As soon as he does, his body sags against it and he breathes out slowly. He looks down, and has a realization.

“Come the fuck _ on_,” he whines at the sight of both of his hands, now free from the door.

_ Maybe all I needed was… _

“No,” Donghyuck halts his thoughts. “No, that’s so fucking _ cheesy_. God, this is fucked up.” He backs up from the door with a sour taste in his mouth and chucks the shirt in his hands in the general direction of his bed. He’s still frowning as he goes to dig a sweatshirt out of his drawers—one with significantly deep pockets. He doesn’t know what will happen if he tries to touch anything again, so he refuses to take any chances.

He gives the sweatshirt a cursory sniff, deems it acceptable, and pulls it over his head. Immediately, he shoves his hands into the big pocket in the middle of the garment. With a sigh, he sits down on the edge of his bed, and lets himself fall backwards. He’s sure he lands on top of Mark’s shirt, but ignores it in favor of sinking into the mattress. He can damn near count every crease of his bed sheets pressing against his skin. His heart and head pound in unison.

_ Something is wrong with me. _

The sound of a siren rises and falls as a trail of ambulances drive past his building. The ear splitting wails instantaneously bring memories of the previous day rushing to the forefront of his mind like high tide against the shore. He shuts his eyes. Snapshots of buildings crumbling burn behind his eyelids. The ugly feeling of fear returns to the pit of his stomach, twisting and churning his insides until the taste of acid is at the back of his throat. The fear he saw in Renjun’s eyes before he turned his back to him. The fear that propelled him down to that lab afterwards. The fear that Mark was lying somewhere, lifeless, and crushed under debris.

His eyes reopen with a flutter and his lungs quiver on his next inhale. _ I don’t like thinking about this, _he thinks as that gruesome image dissolves into a blur.

A knock on his door jerks him away from his thoughts for the nth time this morning. He sighs sharply through his nose before emitting nothing but a tiny grunt in acknowledgement, not completely trusting his voice to form coherent responses without shaking on every syllable. 

“Hey,” Mark calls out, his voice a huff more than anything, yet it still manages to begin untangling the mess inside Donghyuck’s head bit by bit. Mark clears his throat. “I’m gonna head out to get you some aspirin and shit, okay?”

“‘And shit,’” Donghyuck parrots with a chuckle, happy to hear his voice _ not _ betraying him. “How thoughtful.”

“Shut up,” Mark snaps back, all bark and no bite. His words spread thin from the force of the grin that Donghyuck is sure has stretched across his face. “Anything else you want me to pick up?”

“Extra spicy ramen,” he responds immediately, suddenly acutely aware of how hungry he is. “Oh, and Takis.”

“Tolerable meets mildly disgusting,” Mark quips from behind the door. “I’ll just buy you some laxative while I’m at it, too.”

Donghyuck grins and bites his lip to conceal his laugh. His mood considerably lifted, he pushes himself off the bed and all but skips to the door, schooling his expression into something a little less _ fond _ before he pulls it open. Mark is standing in the doorway, smugness curving his mouth into a smirk and an eyebrow raised in a challenge.

He levels him with his best fake-glare and says, “Eat my fucking ass, Lee.”

“After spicy ramen, _ no one _ would want to eat your ass.” Mark plays along easily, because that’s just how they work. When one is gross, the other is grosser.

“You’re so fucking nasty,” Donghyuck says, wrinkling his nose to feign disgust, but laughing while he does so. “Go get me my hot chip, idiot.” He gently shoves Mark out of the doorway. The menace won’t stop giggling even as he's being physically forcing him out. 

“Aye-aye, Captain,” Mark says in between laughs, ever the dork.

Donghyuck rolls his eyes, prepared to tease and taunt Mark like he was born to do it—and given how long they’ve known each other, he might as well have been—when he notices that the look in Mark’s eyes has turned sharper. He frowns, a question on the tip of his tongue, but Mark answers him before he gets the chance to ask it.

“You’re wearing my sweatshirt.”

Donghyuck all but squeaks before slamming the door in Mark’s face. Despite being flustered, he manages to at least conceal his hands in the sleeves of the damned sweatshirt before pressing them to the door frame for purchase. He leans his forehead against the door and squeezes his eyes shut, thoroughly embarrassed. “Go away, asshole!” He shouts at the same time his brain is screaming _ Why are all of his clothes in _ my _ room?! _

Mark laughs from behind the door, loud and obnoxiously endearing. “I’ll be back in a bit!” He sing-songs, and Donghyuck breathes a sigh of relief. _ Please leave already_. “Oh,” Mark exclaims suddenly, making him groan internally. “Call Renjun back! He’s been texting _ me _ to get in contact with you since you ‘apparently forgot how to work a phone in between the quakes’ or something?” Mark chuckles. “Anyway, please give him a call. You know he’s like, capable of murder, basically. I do _ not _ want to be his victim—”

“Okay, okay,” Donghyuck cuts in. “I get it, I’ll text him, you’ve made your point,” he sighs. “Now _ go_. Hot chip awaits.”

He hears Mark giggle again and lifts his head from the door at the sound, only to let it land right back onto it with a solid thunk.

“I’m going now,” Mark says one last time, his voice sounding farther and farther away with each word. Donghyuck hears him start to walk away, but remains frozen in his position against the door. That is, until a few minutes later, when he hears the front door open and shut, and the tension in his shoulders expels itself as he sighs. _ Thank god. _ Almost instantly, his relief at finally being alone to process his thoughts turns sour, because he realizes he _ has _ to process his thoughts now.

Objectively, the easy back and forth between him and Mark should be a very welcome distraction for Donghyuck, given his current emotional turmoil; but, he was also pathetically in <strike> love</strike> _like_ with the other man, which turned something that should be helpful to him into something that makes him feel helpless, instead.

Donghyuck presses the heel of his palms into his eyes until he sees white behind his eyelids, and goes through yet another breathing exercise in an attempt to purge his mind of its clutter. _ Everything is so, so, _ so _ fucked up. _

With a sigh, he gets up to seek out his phone. He finds it and plugs it in to its charger, watching it restart. As soon as it does, dozens of missed calls and unopened messages flood his notification center. The majority of which are all from Renjun, with some insult and a colorful variation of ** _answer ur phone_ ** every other message. He has some unread messages from Jeno, too. He shakes his head, and navigates to his contacts, scrolling to the letter _ J _ with every intention to dial _ Junnie _. He falters at the contact right above Renjun’s, and his thumb moves the few millimeters upwards it would take for him to press on it and forego even calling Renjun.

_ Johnny-hyung. _

The name alone beckons forth a wave of nostalgia and a sore feeling between Donghyuck’s ribs. Before he gets the chance to talk himself out of it like any other rational person might, his thumb stops hovering and the number is dialed. He brings the phone up to his ear and holds his breath. He doesn’t need to wait too long before he releases an exhale; the call goes straight to voicemail.

_ “Hey, you just missed me,” _ Johnny’s deep voice crackles over the line. _ “Leave it at the beep.” _

_ Beep _ the voicemail does, and Donghyuck flounders. He _ really _did not think this through.

“Um,” he starts, voice dry so he swallows roughly. “Hi, hyung,” the honorific feels heavy on his tongue. He never refers to Mark that way (to the older boy’s dismay) so it’s been a while since Donghyuck’s mouth formed that sound. “I...I don’t actually know why I called you,” he admits quietly. He starts picking at a loose thread on his sweats. “Being in Chicago and all, I’m not really sure how much news you get about the city...I guess that’s kind of my fault, too? I should’ve been calling you, hyung.” His throat constricts with emotion at the thought of the kind eyes that always curved into crescents upon seeing him. The firm hand on his shoulder when he plucked up the courage to ask, _ “Hyung, do you think boys are pretty, too?” _ The fond call of _ “Donghyuckie, Donghyuckie,” _ wherever he went. _ His _ hyung. The one who took care of everything when the news broke about Mark’s parents’ death. The one who taught an orphan like him what _ family _ really meant.

It’s been a few years since his hyung moved back to his birthplace in Chicago, leaving Donghyuck and Mark to their own devices.

_ “You’re both adults now, right?” _ Johnny had said. _ “I’ve done my part for now. Raised you, I guess. But now this is _ your _ lives, you got that? You have to look out for each other.” A younger, lankier Mark dutifully nods his head. _

_ “Alright,” he replies, his clammy hand grasping Donghyuck’s. “We will.” _

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into the phone as the memory fades, and clears his throat afterwards. “I-I really don’t know why I’m calling...everything is so messed up, hyung.” Donghyuck laughs wetly. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he adds quietly.

Donghyuck sighs. “I don’t know...what’s going on anymore, really. In the span of a day, I don’t know _ who _I am anymore, and…” He takes a shaky breath. “I’m scared, hyung.” The last part comes out small, in perfect mimicry of how he feels. He pushes strength into his voice. “I really, truly hope you’re doing okay out there. You’re too warm for Chicago, hyung,” he chuckles. The Johnny in his head ruffles his firetruck red hair and tells 14-year-old Donghyuck, _ “You’re too warm for winters in New York, Donghyuckie.” _

The message has gone on long enough, Donghyuck doesn’t want to say goodbye—again.

“I miss you,” he says instead, and removes his phone from his ear. Something’s blurring his vision, but he still manages to end the call. He blinks, and his vision clears enough for him to see droplets of moisture splashed onto his phone screen. “Oh,” he exclaims softly. _ I’m crying. _

Donghyuck deposits his phone onto his bed and squeezes his eyes shut. A kaleidoscope of the _ end call _ button flashes red behind his eyelids. Suddenly, the air in his room doesn’t feel enough. In something akin to desperation, Donghyuck strides to his bedroom window and tugs it open, breathing the fresh autumn air in. Now, he embraces the cold. The wetness in his eyes can be chalked up to brisk air instead of sadness, now. _ This _was a distraction Donghyuck could welcome. 

While he successfully manages to _ not _ fixate on that disaster of a voicemail, leaning against the sill and out of his window triggers what might just be the most intense déjà vu Donghyuck has ever experienced in his life. The smell of spandex hits his senses, and for a moment, Donghyuck thinks he has _ truly _ lost his grip on reality, because he swears he can _ hear _ Spider-Man swinging and—oh. Speak of the devil.

_ Thwipthwipthwip_, he goes in the same direction of the ambulances that had driven past nearly ten minutes ago. Seeing him again is jarring. Like a web, every moment he spent with Spider-Man yesterday gathers in his mind, and the superhero is at the very center of it. Somewhere in this web, Donghyuck finds himself: stuck.

“Stuck,” he breathes the word out as he watches the superhero crawl on the walls of buildings with little to no effort, before leaping down to where all of the ambulances have congregated. “Stuck.” 

He thinks of Spider-Man, with his peculiar ability to crawl on the walls with nothing but his hands and feet for security, and looks down at his own hands gripping the window ledge. In a moment of clarity, he finds himself detaching his hands from the surface with less ease than he has grown used to. Something sinks to his stomach—a revelation heavy in its implications and heavier in its absurdity.

_ There’s no fucking way. _ “Impossible…” His own voice sounds weak to his ears, and his murmurs are all for naught once he flexes his fingers and turns his hands over so that his palms face the earth. There, in the afternoon light, his gaze catches on a bruise.

_ Donghyuck notices a tiny spider resting on his thumb knuckle as he’s fiddling with his camera, and wants to chuckle at the irony of the situation. But then, he feels the tell-tale sting of a bite, and winces as he rushes to brush the arachnid off of his skin. _

His brain is a beat behind his body. Before he knows it, he's tucking his phone into his back pocket and stepping into the closest pair of shoes he can find. As he’s patting himself down to make sure he has everything he needs, something red catches his eyes, peeking out of his drawer. Upon inspection, he discovers that it’s a beanie. He quirks a brow up, and thinks, _ What the hell, _ pointedly ignoring the fact that _ he _definitely does not own a red beanie. He shoves it over his hair, checking his reflection in the mirror and making adjustments as he sees fit. Satisfied, he grabs his keys, and leaves his room.

He moves throughout his apartment with extreme caution, making sure not a single inch of it is disturbed by his motions. Once he’s in the kitchen, he unlocks the window that accesses their fire escape with delicacy. He wants nothing out of place lest Mark comes back before his own little adventure is over, which is why he made sure to shut his bedroom door before making his way here.

Crawling through the window is a feat—that is, it _ should _be. Donghyuck doesn’t know if he should even be surprised to find that he has no trouble maneuvering himself through the cramped space, and lands onto the fire escape without even breaking a sweat. He begins his descent.

Donghyuck keeps his head hung low once he’s walking along the pavement, weaving in between his fellow New Yorkers—living their lives as if those very lives didn’t nearly _ end _ the day before. The sheer amount of people and _ life _ buzzing through the streets is enough to revive his headache in full force, and he winces at the volume of the outside world. _ I can turn around_, he suggests to himself, but then yellow tape comes into his line of vision and his eyes fixate on the red and blue suit talking to one of the cops on the scene. 

“Too late,” he mutters to himself with a sigh.

Of course, the man he came to see hears him, and whips his head in Donghyuck’s direction. The cop, a plump man with a rather impressive mustache, follows Spider-Man’s gaze.

“Donghyuck?” Spider-Man sounds confused, if anything. Donghyuck definitely understands. He did not think he’d be seeing the other man so soon, either, let alone be the one to seek him out. He raises his hand in a stilted, awkward wave in response, something between a smile and a grimace distinguishing his features. 

The cop raises an eyebrow. “That a fan of yours?” Judging by the way he leaned into the superhero’s space and turned his body away from him, Donghyuck assumes that comment was not meant for him to hear. Yet, he still heard it. He feels his ears get hot.

“No, no,” Spider-Man says, waving his hands back and forth and shaking his head. “Um, just a friend.” A balloon of warmth swells in Donghyuck’s chest. _ Friend. _

“I’ll be going now, yeah? You don’t need anything else?” Spider-Man doesn’t wait for a reply from the cop, already beginning to walk away. He’s ducked under the yellow tape by the time the cop shrugs in response.

“Can you get rid of the crime epidemic?”

Spider-Man freezes a few feet away from him. His back is turned, so he sees the way the superhero’s stupidly broad shoulders stiffen. 

“Uh, no?”

The cop sighs. “Then no, you got nothin’ we need. Get outta here, kid, we’ll take it from here.”

Spider-Man relaxes, turning on his heel and immediately coming face to face with Donghyuck. 

“Hi,” he says, the syllable breathed out in a rush.

“Donghyuck,” Spider-Man’s voice is much more strained. “What are you doing here? Is something wrong? Are you alright?”

Donghyuck blinks, bewildered by the onslaught of questions. “I’m...fine? Jesus, Spider-Boy, what’s up _ your _ ass today?” He frowns.

“Nothing!” Spider-Man replies hastily, holding his hands out in surrender. “I just...wasn’t expecting to see you out here, that’s all.” His hands drop in time with his shoulders.

Donghyuck nods. “Yeah, well. I didn’t expect this, either, to be honest.”

“So…” Spider-Man tilts his head to the side and leans forward, invading Donghyuck’s space. “Why _ are _you here?”

He swallows audibly. “Friends, huh?” He skirts around answering the question with ease.

“Uh,” Spider-Man says. “Yes. I guess so. I mean, if that’s okay...with you?” An invisible hook snags his inflection at the end of his sentence, dragging it up and transforming his statement into a question.

Donghyuck nods. “Good.” His heart is erratic between his ribs, but he persists. “That makes me feel less awkward about all of this.”

“Donghyuck,” Spider-Man says in a hushed voice. “What’s going on?”

Donghyuck wishes Spider-Man didn’t have such a stupid mask. Where he could be looking into the superhero’s eyes to gauge how he really felt about this weird encounter, he sees a distorted version of himself. He averts his eyes. “There’s something I need to talk to you about,” he admits in a quiet voice. “I need your help..._ but_. I’d rather not be in such a public setting for this conversation.”

“Of course,” Spider-Man replies, his tone grave. “Where, then? Lead the way.”

With a quirk of his lips, Donghyuck does.

“You have _ got _ to be _ shitting _ me,” Spider-Man bemoans fifteen minutes later. He's sat across from Donghyuck. The smell of coffee and the hum and tinkering of machinery surround them.

“What?” Donghyuck retorts. “I wanted coffee!” He grins around his straw, happily sipping his own drink as he watches yet _ another _ starstruck Starbucks customer point at his superhero companion with wide eyes.

“Of _ all _ the fucking coffee shops, you _ had _ to pick _ Starbucks?_” Spider-Man sounds so incredibly distressed, it fills Donghyuck with glee.

“Your reaction just proves to me that my decision was a good one. _ And, _ stop acting like you were _ dragged _ here against your will. You followed me, Spider-Boy.” He winks at him, and the superhero sputters.

“You sounded serious on the street! If I knew you were just pulling my leg, then I wouldn’t have entertained your stupid ass—Hi, hello there.” His voice completely changes to be appropriate for his new audience. A little girl came bounding up to their table, her mother in tow. She hands Spider-Man a phone wordlessly. Donghyuck watches with poorly concealed amusement as the two pose for selfies with the superhero’s signature hand gesture. The little girl seems satisfied enough, giving Spider-Man a wave and a partially toothless grin as her mother guides her away.

“Stay super!” He calls out after her, and Donghyuck barks out a laugh.

“Wow, Mark’s rubbing off on you, huh? Or are you just _ naturally _ that lame?”

“Yeah, well, nice beanie, dingus,” Spider-Man shoots back. 

Donghyuck smirks, reaching up to pull the fabric off his head. “What, this old thing?” He sets the beanie down on the table and uses both hands to smooth his bangs down into an acceptable medium between _ rat’s nest _ and _ artfully tousled_. “Oh, you know, I just happened to find this lying around in my stuff. It’s cute, though, isn’t it?” He sticks his hand inside the beanie and twirls it around his fingers, staring Spider-Man down.

“Stop messing around, Donghyuck,” Spider-Man says, dropping their banter as if it hurt him to keep it up. “What the hell are we doing here? Did you _ really _ have something to talk about or were you just fucking with me?”

The smile on Donghyuck’s face slips the more the superhero speaks. He takes one last cautious sip of his drink before nodding at Spider-Man. “I did. I _ do_,” he sighs.

“So,” Spider-Man says, folding his eyes on top of the table’s surface. “Start from the top, then. Tell me what happened.”

And so, Donghyuck does. He speaks, and the superhero across from him hangs on to his every word. His body language becomes more open the more Donghyuck divulges about his situation. In particular, Spider-Man slumps against the back of his chair when Donghyuck mentions the spider bite.

“...I don’t know what any of this means,” he confesses as he wraps the story up. “Or, I do. I’m just, I dunno, scared? These implications are fucking terrifying, and I want so badly to be wrong about this,” he admits with a frown.

Spider-Man lets out a shaky sigh, straightening his back. “Well,” he begins. “You’re right to be scared, Donghyuck. But...b-but you’re not _ wrong_.” His voice gets quieter. “About any of it.” 

Donghyuck goes still. His attention is focused on his drink, his head down. The cup in between his palms is now uncomfortably damp with condensation. He feels the droplets trickle down its surface, against the skin of his hands. He refuses to meet the superhero’s gaze, even though he can feel it burning into the top of his head.

“Donghyuck,” Spider-Man calls out gently. “I need you to understand that there is _ nothing _ you can do to reverse this.” He keeps his voice low so that people have a harder time eavesdropping. “Trust me, I’ve tried everything. These powers are your responsibility now—”

“No,” he shakes his head. “Don’t say it like that. That’s—” He takes a deep breath in, and pushes the cup away from himself. “No,” he repeats, firmer.

“Donghyuck,” Spider-Man sighs. “_Listen _to me—I can help you—”

“_No, _ Spider-Man.” Donghyuck casts his gaze up and sees his reflection. No distortion could mistake the fire blazing in his eyes. “Stop it.”

“You can not afford to be stubborn, Hyuck,” Spider-Man chastises him.

“Don’t fucking call me that,” he spits out. Blood rushes to his cheeks and his heart pounds against his rib cage. His chair screeches across the floor as he pushes himself away from the table and stands up. Heads turn in their direction. He speaks above the whispers he can hear too clearly, but low enough for his words to only reach Spider-Man.

“If you tell Mark…” He starts, clenching and un-clenching his fist. “He _ can’t _ know. I won't tell him. And you won't, either.”

Spider-Man visibly deflates at his words. “...Alright,” he says after a long moment, his voice barely above a whisper.

Donghyuck gives him a jerky nod of acknowledgment before averting his gaze and picking his beanie up off of the table. “Good talk,” he says, his entire demeanor stiff. 

Spider-Man nods minutely in response. Donghyuck puts the beanie on, and walks out of the shop without a second glance.

As soon he’s outside, he hails a cab. He’s rattling off Jeno’s home address to the cabbie before he can even process what he’s doing. The cabbie takes off with the guide of the GPS, and Donghyuck realizes he should probably double check to make sure Jeno is even _ at _home.

** _ jen _ **

** _jeno leeeeeeeeeeee_ **

** _What_ **

** _What do u want I was trying to nap_ **

** _im coming over_ **

** _like rn_ **

** _is renjun there??_ **

** _? No he’s at his aunt’s restaurant_ **

** _Y _ **

** _no reason!! just wanted to give u a heads up tho_ **

** _Alright Hyuck. C u soon_ **

Donghyuck locks his phone with a shaky exhale. As much as Renjun is his best friend, Jeno knows him like the back of his own hand, and vice versa. He was usually the first to know about any problem he had, and the best at providing him with support in his special Jeno way—videos of his cats, 3 A.M. trips to the store, a sturdy shoulder to cry on. Renjun was good at _ solving _ problems and giving advice, but this particular situation would’ve freaked him out way too much, and he hated to see Renjun on edge in any capacity.

The cab pulls up to Jeno’s building ten minutes later. He gives the cabbie the bills he needs and hightails it out of there, taking long strides to get to the building and bounding up the front steps once he does. Inside, he ignores the elevator and chooses to take the staircase two by two, all the way to the third floor—Jeno. He’s not even out of breath by the time he makes it to the front door, and raises his hand to knock. He hits his fist against it in four beats, and the door opens a moment later. A calm settles into Donghyuck’s bones at the sight of Jeno.

“Hey,” he says. His hair was down, and he wore cotton sweats and a t-shirt. Donghyuck did feel a little bit guilty for imposing on him like this, but gladly takes his cue to go inside when Jeno steps aside and opens the door wider for him.

“Hey, yourself,” he responds as Jeno shuts the door. Donghyuck walks further into the apartment. It’s a little studio, the kind where every room is sort of rammed into one. It would take no less than five steps for Jeno to move from his floor mattress to his kitchen.

“So,” Jeno sighs. “What were your weird texts about? I know you don’t just come over by _ yourself _ on a weekday afternoon, without a reason. Is something up?”

“I…” Donghyuck begins, but trails off when he spots a garish yellow bottle on Jeno’s makeshift nightstand. His hands start to sweat.

“Hyuck?” Jeno calls for him, and he snaps to attention. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” he responds, though barely any sound comes out from how dry his throat has become. He swallows. “Jen, what are those pills for?”

In an instant, Jeno turns white as a sheet. “Donghyuck,” he sighs, and starts to wring his hands. He sinks into the futon near the front door. 

Donghyuck walks over to the nightstand and plucks the pill bottle off of it, inspecting the label. “Why are you on painkillers again? Are these even _ safe _ for you? Jeno, what the _fuc__k_—”

“Donghyuck,” Jeno interrupts. “Come sit down, please.”

Donghyuck does as he’s told, keeping the bottle with him. He sinks into the cushion next to Jeno and studies the boy’s face. “Jen…” His voice shakes.

At this moment, all Donghyuck can think about is two years ago, when Jeno had gotten into a car crash. He had sustained a multitude of fractures and enough serious breaks to have him hospitalized for months. The recovery period involved physical therapy, but still, he was told he may never be able to dance again without serious risks.

And of course, he was prescribed painkillers. Painkillers he couldn’t seem to shake even after his injuries had gotten better.

“Hey,” Jeno interrupts Donghyuck’s terrible trip down memory lane. He plants a firm hand onto Donghyuck’s shoulder, and gently takes the pill bottle away from him with his other hand. “These,” he rattles the bottle and the sound of pills against plastic makes the hair on the back of Donghyuck’s neck stand on end. “These aren’t opioids. Okay?”

Donghyuck nods slowly, a certain level of relief melting some of his worries away. “But...why do you have them?”

At this, Jeno looks sheepish, bringing his hand away from Donghyuck’s shoulder to rub at the back of his own neck. “I tried dancing again, fucked up my back,” he admits, shaking his head. “I was stupid.”

“No, Jen,” Donghyuck sighs. “You aren’t stupid for wanting to do what you love.” He thinks of his battered camera at home and his heart pangs with a specific, passion-associated pain. “But you need to know your limits,” he continues. “I can’t…” Donghyuck takes another shaky breath. “I can’t watch you go through that again, Jeno.”

“You won’t,” Jeno replies, voice soft and eyes softer. He smiles at him in the way only Lee Jeno can, and Donghyuck feels overwhelmingly at ease at the sight. He can trust Jeno.

“Okay,” he sighs. “Does Renjun know?”

Jeno shakes his head in silence. Donghyuck can only nod back.

“I know it isn’t my place, but...Renjun’s my friend, too. He was your friend before you started dating each other, and still is your friend, even now.” Donghyuck places his hand on top of Jeno’s, which is still holding the bottle. “It’s better to tell him, Jen. On your own time, but tell him, okay?”

Jeno nods, pursing his lips into an almost-smile. “Okay,” he echoes, and Donghyuck exhales.

“So,” Jeno says after a few moments of awkwardly sentimental eye contact and even more awkward hand-holding. He forces some pep into his voice to steer away from the dark topic. “Why _ did _ you come here all of a sudden?”

Donghyuck blanches. He had been so caught up in making sure that Jeno was okay, that he had completely forgotten _ why _ he made the decision to go to Jeno’s in the first place. He had been ready to divulge everything that was occupying his mind and jumbling his thoughts, but looking at Jeno now, he sees the shadows of his past inked into his bones clear as day, and he thinks of Spider-Man’s words.

_ These powers are your responsibility now. _

The urge to share and to burden evaporates. His shoulders slump, and he sighs. “No reason,” he lies to Jeno. “I just wanted to see your ugly face.” He lies to keep Jeno safe.

Jeno sticks his tongue out at him, and Donghyuck smiles, but not the smile that stretches over his teeth. This is something pinched, something pained. 

_ I can’t let anyone know, can I? They’d all be in danger… _

Jeno says something about playing Overwatch, and Donghyuck shakes his worrisome thoughts out of his head in favor of enjoying his friend’s company <strike> while he still can </strike>.

The sun is setting by the time he hugs Jeno goodbye.

(“Talk to Junnie, alright? Promise me.”

“I promise. And come by more often. I don’t actually need a reason to see you, Hyuck.”) 

Donghyuck catches a cab home, and spends the entire ride there wallowing. _ Why me? _ He thinks with contempt as he eyes the healing bite on his thumb. _ Why fucking _me_? _ He has people he would die for, but now, they’re all one wrong move away from being compromised _ because _ of him. He doesn’t know how to deal with that kind of pressure, and he wishes he didn’t have to.

The cab pulls to a stop in front of his building, and he shells out the last of his spending money to pay the expenses. His wallet is not the only thing that feels hollow when he steps out of the cab.

It drives off, and Donghyuck walks past the front entrance. He rounds the corner into the alley where the fire escape is, and tugs the ladder down. Going back in, he is less careful than he should be. He leaves a scuff mark on the window sill when he climbs back in, and lets it fall shut with an audible _ thwack _. He’s drained, but still goes to his room to toe his shoes off and toss his wallet, phone, and keys onto the bed. The beanie finds a home on his desk lamp. He doesn’t bother fixing his hair as he trudges out of his room and goes to Mark’s.

Mark’s door is ajar, a stream of artificial light pouring through the crack. Donghyuck pushes it open further, cringing when its hinges creak and groan in protest. Behind the door, Donghyuck spots Mark buried in his comforter, laptop perched on his chest and his glasses askew. His heart both warms and speeds up at the sight.

Mark looks up at Donghyuck’s entrance, and shuts his laptop, moving it to the side. He fixes his glasses and sits up. The comforter slips down until Donghyuck can clearly see that Mark isn’t wearing a shirt. _ Nothing about today is easy, huh? _

“Put a shirt on,” Donghyuck echoes Mark’s words from earlier with a nervous smile. “You might get sick.”

He lets out a breath when Mark smiles back, something crooked and annoyingly handsome. But the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. 

“Finally came out from your nest, I see.” Mark raises an eyebrow at the state of Donghyuck’s hair, and his hand immediately reaches up to pat it down. Mark chuckles, and completely throws the comforter off, swinging his legs off the bed and walking over to Donghyuck. His sweats hang low on his hips and his glasses have already slid down his nose again. Donghyuck sighs, a small, shuddering exhalation, when Mark comes into his space. His eyes flutter closed when calloused fingers start to brush through his hair. Blunt nails scratch against his scalp and then another hand traces the left side of his face, from his brow bone to his chin. He opens his eyes and catches Mark’s wrist. The roles are completely reversed from the night before, but what doesn’t change is the intensity at which Mark stares at Donghyuck. This isn't the playful Mark that shared banter with him earlier in the day, nor is it the pliant Mark from the night before, who looked at Donghyuck like he had hung the stars in the sky. Tonight, Mark's hard angles were just as prevalent as his softer edges. It's what made every interaction between them feel that much more intimate. There’s a small, anxious voice at the back of Donghyuck’s head that’s begging the question, _ Do best friends act like this? _

He ignores that voice, and digs bravery out from the depths of his soul and pours it into one syllable. “Bed?”

Mark doesn’t respond verbally, but handles it much better than the Donghyuck of last night, who was posed with the same question, did. He twists his wrist out of Donghyuck’s grip until their hands are lined up, and slots their fingers together, tugging him back to his bed.

Donghyuck’s nerves, of course, stifle the moment. “Y-you sure? Won’t you get sick?” He asks as he sinks into a seated position on Mark’s mattress. The other boy detaches their hands for the purpose of turning his desk lamp off, shrouding the room in darkness. The only indication to him that Mark had returned was the dip in the other side of the mattress. 

He blinks, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. He watches Mark fix the rumpled comforter until it covers both of them, and then slide down into a lying position.

“No,” Mark finally responds once he’s made himself comfortable. He looks up at him, and Donghyuck notices that his glasses have come off. “I told you this morning, it’s a little late for me to play it safe.”

“Right,” He nods. _ Safe. _

He sighs, and reaches for the hem of <strike>his </strike> _ Mark’s _ sweatshirt, tugging it up and over his head.

“Besides,” Mark continues in a softer voice, making him freeze with the garment only halfway off his arms. “I can tell you’ve got something on your mind, and I don’t think you should be dealing with it alone.”

Donghyuck unfreezes at the same pace Mark’s words sink into him—slowly. He all but melts right then and there. 

He pulls the rest of the sweatshirt off, chucking it across the room. “Wow,” he says, a beat too late. His voice is strained and thick with emotion. “Read me harder, why don’t you?” He fixes a good-natured grin on his face and turns to lock eyes with Mark. 

He regrets it immediately. Mark looks _ pained_. The seriousness in his eyes is enough to make the smile fall off of Donghyuck’s face. “Mark…?”

“I wish you’d talk to me more, Hyuck.” The words tumble out of Mark’s lips and barrel right into Donghyuck’s chest. He’s sure his heart must be bruised by how harshly it’s been beating, threatening to burst. He feels beyond overwhelmed. 

He doesn’t know how to answer Mark without lying in one way or another, so he looks away, hangs his head, and says, “I’m sorry.”

Mark sighs, shaking his head. “You don’t need to say that, Donghyuck.” He sounds and looks like a wounded puppy, which only succeeds in hurting Donghyuck, too. It must show on his face, because Mark widens his eyes. “Shit, why are you crying, Duckie?”

“I’m not,” he replies, his voice hoarse. “It’s just...been a long two days.” He sighs, and his lower lip quivers, so he bites down on it. He brings a shaky hand up to the wetness that he feels on his cheek, and his fingers come away glistening. “Shit.”

“Donghyuck-ah, look at me,” Mark calls out softly, switching into Korean. He sits up onto his haunches and opens his arms up as an invitation. Donghyuck holds his breath.

“Let hyung take care of you.”

And that’s just it, isn’t it? That’s all it takes for the last of Donghyuck’s walls to come crumbling down.

He fits right into Mark’s arms like the perfect puzzle piece. Mark leans back into the mattress until he's lying down with Donghyuck on top of him. He holds him back and runs a hand through his hair. Donghyuck silently weeps into his neck. He rarely shows vulnerability like this, even with Mark, but with everything that’s happened to him in the last 48 hours—the earthquakes; thinking he would lose Mark; and then, the bite which changed _ everything _ for him—Donghyuck felt suffocated. His emotions kept building up until he couldn’t contain them any longer. 

And where better a place for him to let the dam break than in the arms of the person he feels safest with?

“We look out for each other,” Mark says, switching back to English. “It’s a two way street, Donghyuck. You have to let me look out for you, too.”

He lets out a tremulous breath, and Mark’s hold on him tightens, swathing him in warmth.

“Thank you,” he says against the skin of Mark’s neck. “For everything since the day we met.” 

_ You make me feel loved_, he doesn’t say.

Mark leans down to plant a kiss on the crown of his head, making him flush red. He smiles into his hair. “We can’t both be sappy at the same time,” Mark says. “The world will implode.”

He giggles against Mark’s neck and feels him shudder in turn. He manages to raise himself up until they’re face to face, and smiles at Mark. Mark brings one hand up to thumb away a stray tear under Donghyuck’s eye, and his heart clenches. When Mark smiles back this time, it reaches his eyes.

“Let the world implode,” Donghyuck tells him, his own smile blooming into a grin that Mark mirrors effortlessly. He settles himself onto Mark’s chest, his head positioned right over his heart. He hears it beat loud and clear, and his own heartbeat starts slowing down to match its pace until he feels them become synchronized. And when Mark laughs, Donghyuck’s entire body hums with joy.

“Sweet dreams, Donghyuck-ah,” Mark rumbles against his hairline, and he shivers. Mark’s got a mouth like spun sugar—sweet, with sweeter words that leave it.

“Goodnight, Mark,” Donghyuck replies to the other boy’s heart.

It's a bit early to really go to bed, but Mark falls asleep first again, and Donghyuck lies awake, entirely enchanted by the existence of the boy beneath him. To lay with him like this—skin on skin, heart to heart—Donghyuck feels over the moon. _ Best friends definitely don’t act like this, _ he taunts the worrisome voice in his head. He thinks they might have turned a new leaf over in their friendship, but is unsure of what lies beneath it. A bed of flowers to nourish and love through its growth? Or, weeds that were a pain to remove? He doesn’t worry about it too much, now. He’s simply enjoying this moment while he can. If he could bottle it, he would. If he could capture their synchronized heartbeats onto a sound bite, then he would. For now, he lets himself indulge the bigger, scarier L-word rattling around in his brain.

_ This has to be what that feels like_, he wonders as he rises and falls in tandem with Mark’s chest.

Donghyuck thinks about what Johnny told him oh so long ago, about his home’s unbearable winters and how unfit they were for him. Truth be told, Donghyuck has known something about what _ home _ actually means to him for a while, but now that knowledge is reaffirmed with each matching beat of their hearts: he can handle whatever the universe throws at him, so long as Mark is by his side.

_ Let the world implode. I’m right where I want to be._

The world decides to implode the following morning, in a rather unconventional way—because someone _isn't_ where they want to be.

Donghyuck stirs to the sound of someone banging on their front door. He sits up straighter when he realizes someone is _banging_ on their front door at—a quick glance at Mark's digital wall clock tells him it's 6:13 A.M. He glances at the boy under him, still sleeping through the offensive racket. Donghyuck sighs and peels himself off of Mark, tip-toeing out of the room as quietly as possible. He grabs the baseball bat they hide in one of their house plants on his way to the door. For precaution.

With the bat behind his back, he approaches the front door. The pounding against it is incessant, and only quiets down when he turns the first lock. Then, it stops.

Donghyuck takes a deep breath. He opens the door.

The menace has side parted black hair falling into his eyes, and wears a red and blue spandex suit with a black spider emblem on the chest. Donghyuck freezes. Spider-Man wouldn't just knock on his door like this. He also has never indicated that he would share his identity with him, so the exposed face unsettles Donghyuck.

"Is this a joke, or something?" Donghyuck asks carefully, warning bells going off in his head.

The stranger frowns, first at him, and then at the baseball bat in his hands. "Uh, no. Were you planning to use that on _me_?"

"No," he deadpans, no longer intimidated. _This guy seems fucking dense._ "I was planning to use it on a _different_ Spider-Man impostor."

"What the hell?" The stranger glares at him. "You're one to talk about impostors—you're living in my _house_!"

_Okay_, Donghyuck squints at him, _I wasn't expecting that. Keep your cool, Donghyuck. _"Dude, just let it _up_. It's too early in the morning _and_ the year for these kinds of pranks."

"I'm _not_ pranking you," not-Spider-Man insists, desperation setting his eyes aflame and his voice on edge. Donghyuck's grip on the baseball bat tightens.

"I _live_ here," he continues. "My name is Vernon Chwe, and I'm _not_ a Spider-Man impostor. I _am_ Spider-Man."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter took a Physical toll on me...i hope you all like it. i know it's a filler, which made it even harder for me to write it. hopefully you guys are still interested in this story. new characters next chapter!!! lots of 'em!  
thank you for reading.  
[twitter](https://twitter.com/yibostellium) || [cc](http://curiouscat.me/tracer85)


	3. hide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donghyuck recognizes the fear and hysteria turning Vernon’s eyes glassy. He was the exact same two days ago—  
“Oh my god,” he breathes out, and Mark’s attention snaps to him.  
“What is it?”  
He keeps looking at Vernon, pieces of the puzzle slowly falling into place. “Two days ago, the earthquake happened.”  
Vernon’s lips part on an exhale, and Donghyuck hears the way it trembles. “Maybe…” He looks at Mark, and his breath catches in his throat. Everything leading up to this and moving forward could jeopardize his secret if he isn’t discreet enough. “Maybe,” he tries again. “_Our_ Spider-Man can help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **welcome back! please read this note.**
> 
> first thing’s first: it has been some months since my last update. truly, i apologize for the long wait, but my laptop gave out on me around december and then college apps picked up. i still don’t have a computer, so i’m using my phone to upload ;~; 
> 
> secondly: this is a shorter chapter than the first two. i intended for it to breach at _least_ 15k, but writer’s block stopped me around 9k of the original draft. so, i decided to split the original ch3 into two different chapters. chapter four will be much longer and will definitely have a lot more action than this one does. but i hope this chapter isn’t too boring :( i’m reluctant to post only a fraction of what i wanted to, but this is better than going even longer without an update me thinks
> 
> finally, i want to sincerely thank anybody who read this story or left kudos, even during my mini hiatus. i fully intend to be diligent about writing this fic again, but i hope you can understand why i may go MIA again...school is a lot lol
> 
> happy reading!  
\- zee 🌻

“I _ am _ Spider-Man.”

“Okay,” Donghyuck does his best to keep his bewilderment and fear hidden. “Gimme a second.”

_ Vernon _ has no time to protest before the door is shut in his face.

Donghyuck allows himself a moment, a single moment, to cast a question up to the powers that be: _ Are you _ done_? _Adrenaline tugs the skin of his hand closer to the metal of the bat and propels his feet forward, back to Mark’s room. It’s pitch black, but he’s able to maneuver through the organized chaos all the way to the edge of the bed, where Mark lies on his stomach, cheek squished against the pillow and a pout on his lips. Donghyuck is anything but gentle when he shakes his shoulder.

“Wake up,” he hisses, and feels it echo in the stillness. Mark stirs for a moment, barely blinking. “Mark, I swear to fucking God, wake up.”

To anyone else, Mark’s response would have been impossible to decipher; but, to him, he can hear the way each cursed syllable tumbles out of the other boy’s mouth in daunting clarity.

“What is it, baby?”

_ Not fair. Not fair. Not fucking fair. _

His eyes still aren’t open yet, and for that Donghyuck is thankful. “Um,” he sputters, cheeks warm and heart racing. 

Mark blinks an eye open after a long inhale and it seems like he’s _ finally _ approaching lucidity. “Duckie?”

“Hi,” he whispers back, and doesn’t wait to get to the point. “There’s a man claiming to be Spider-Man outside our door, and he seems very, very serious about it.”

_ That _ wakes Mark up. “What?” His voice is clearer but still ragged from sleep as he pushes himself up and reaches for his glasses. “How—_what the fuck? _”

Donghyuck sighs, frustrated. “Up and at ‘em, Lee, we may need to call the cops. The guy believes he _ lives _here.”

Mark furrows his brows and swings himself out of bed, grabbing the nearest t-shirt and pulling it over his head. He finally notices the bat in Donghyuck’s hands and grins a little bit. “And what were you gonna use _ that _ for?”

“Battery,” he responds with utmost sincerity. “Come _ on_,” he pushes Mark towards the door, silently telling him to take the lead. He lingers behind him, the bat poised to strike. Just in case.

There’s a rhythm being tapped against the front door when they reach it, and Donghyuck immediately recognizes it to be Clair de Lune. There’s a moment where reality seems to pause, and he sees an image of two pairs of legs dangling over a piano stool, one longer than the other but both failing to touch the ground. A younger Mark giggles in his head and says, “_Teach me, too._”

The memory fades when present-day Mark opens the door. Vernon is leaning against the door frame, but straightens up when he sees them. His eyes dart between him and Mark, pointedly staring at his bare chest and Mark’s crumpled shirt, almost calculating, before a sour look crosses his face.

“Okay, I don’t wanna know what it was I was interrupting, but can you,” he makes eye contact with Mark, “_please _ tell pretty boy over there to lower the bat?”

Donghyuck sees Mark clench his jaw, his shoulders tensing up. He can’t see the rest of his face, and before he can realize what’s happening, Mark’s arm swings back.

The baseball bat clatters to the ground in sync with Vernon’s body.

“What the _ fuck_, Mark?!” He hisses. Mark pays him no mind, bending down to grab onto Vernon’s ankles. “You didn’t need to punch him!”

“Didn’t I?” Mark grunts. “Get the other side.”

He keeps a mantra of _ What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, _ going under his breath, but does as he’s told. 

“Chair,” Mark instructs, and leads them into their dining area—a simple table with two chairs. With some effort, they set the unconscious man down on one of the chairs, and then Mark darts out of the room. Donghyuck can’t help but stare at the way Vernon just _ sits _ there, head lolled down to his chest, body immobile. He rakes a hand through his hair and takes a shaky breath.

Mark reenters the room with a bundle of rope, and a shirt—he tosses that at Donghyuck, who tugs it over his head quickly. He gawks at how composed the other boy seems to be, despite their..._situation _ sitting unconscious in front of them.

“What do you need that for?” He asks, even though he knows what Mark’s intent is. When Mark doesn’t reply and starts winding the rope around Vernon’s body, he starts panicking.

“Oh my god,” he whispers. “You could definitely get arrested for this.”

Mark scoffs. “Highly doubt it.”

He stares at the other man’s back in disbelief. “You _ punched _ him. Dragged him into our apartment. You’re tying him up to a fucking _ chair!_”

“And?” Mark’s reply is immediate. When he catches Donghyuck’s eye, all he sees in his gaze is defiance. “He bothered us first! Did you fucking _ hear _ what he said—”

“Yes, I was right there, I heard it,” he snaps. “So fucking what he assumed we were...I don’t _ know! _It was just a stupid, dickhead comment but you didn’t need to punch him!”

Mark is retying a knot behind Vernon’s back for the third time when he meets Donghyuck’s gaze again, and his eyes are darker. “He was bothering us,” he repeats. “Didn’t you say he was acting like he lived here?” There’s a pause as Mark tightens the knot until he’s satisfied, before standing up. His eyes are pointedly avoiding him as they shift around the room. “And he called you ‘pretty boy,’” he grumbles.

Donghyuck wishes he was in Vernon’s place at that very moment. His mouth goes dry and before he can even begin to unpack the implications of Mark’s words—of Mark’s blatant _ jealousy_—speak of the devil, the third person in the room regains consciousness.

“Jesus,” Vernon groans as he lifts his head up. There’s an angry red line across the bridge of his nose and dried blood under his nostrils. “If you two really weren’t already having sex, it sure sounds like you need to.”

This time, Donghyuck swings his arm back.

Getting punched twice seemed to quite literally knock some sense into Vernon, so the second time he comes to, there’s no inappropriate comment or snarky remark.

Mark paces up and down the room and fires questions at Vernon, who sits there and answers in a bored drawl, which Donghyuck believes he’s only doing to rile Mark up. It works, because Mark repeats his questions over and over, hoping to drag something of substance out of the other man. 

Behind the dining room’s window, beyond the tension in their apartment, the sun kisses the horizon and the sky burns charcoal into a blaze of orange and red. The city wakes up - and Donghyuck with it. He’s been sitting in the chair opposite Vernon, observing the man and his interactions with Mark, for as long as it’s been since he last woke up, when he finally begins to believe the man. For one thing, he realizes his suit couldn’t possibly be a simple costume. It hugs his body like it was molded for him and no one else. 

_ The design is too detailed for it to belong to an imposter. _The thought unsettles him. Vernon catches him looking and quirks a brow up. 

“Like what you see?” There’s no bite, no venom in his voice. He’s acting cocky for armor. He sees it in the way Vernon’s gaze quivers a bit, his walls of defense barely intact. Donghyuck smirks back.

Mark, on the other hand, glares at Vernon. “Watch it,” he warns, and Donghyuck feels a flame ignite between his ribs.

Vernon rolls his eyes. “Calm down, lover boy. No need to growl.”

Donghyuck bites his lip to keep his grin tucked away as he watches Mark’s ears flush red. “I didn’t growl,” he mutters, indignant. “You’re getting us off-track.”

Vernon throws his head back with a pained groan. “We’ve been at this for an hour already. What more could I possibly tell you that I haven’t already?”

“Name,” Mark repeats.

“Vernon. Chwe.” The response comes from between gritted teeth.

“And?”

“I’m twenty-three. I’ve been Spider-Man for two years. This apartment is identical to mine. This is _ my _ city.”

Donghyuck decides to speak up, breaking his uncharacteristic silence to ask his own question. “Is there anyone in the city that can vouch for your crazy story?”

Vernon pales, and his walls come crumbling down. His voice has shrunk down to a small, fragile little thing when he replies. “I haven’t been able to find him yet.”

Unfazed, Donghyuck plows on. “So? Give us a name, we’ll track him down, and you two can live happily ever after in a prison cell somewhere together.”

Vernon glares at him. “You don’t _ get _ it. I live here _ with _ him. I have for four years.” His gaze melts into something somber. “He hasn’t even _ called _ since I got here.”

“‘Got here,’” Mark echoes. “You said this was your city, so…”

“That’s the thing.” Vernon sighs. “It is. There’s no denying this is New York but...it isn’t right. It isn’t _ my _ New York. Took me a day to even find this place.” His eyes flit over the surface of the dining table, and a muscle in his jaw jumps. “Everything’s just...foggy.”

He makes eye contact with Mark over Vernon’s head, both of them sporting looks of confusion. Donghyuck clears his throat. “Okay, so. Congrats, this _ is _ New York, you’re not wrong there. When did you get to... _ this _ New York?”

Vernon blinks. “Two days ago.”

His eyes widen. “You’ve just been...wandering around all that time? Did you _ sleep?_”

Vernon shakes his head. “That wasn’t an option. I didn’t...didn’t think about anything like that, I just _ had _ to find him. I was _ with _ him before it happened, I needed to make sure he was okay before anything else.”

“Before _ what _ happened?” Mark asks carefully.

Vernon’s gulp is audible in the charged pause following Mark’s question. The hairs on Donghyuck’s arm stand on end when he speaks.

“We...we have standing dates. Every Tuesday, I take him swinging around Central Park after his vocal lesson. He likes the thrill of it and finds it funny when tabloids go rabid over who Spider-Man’s boyfriend is every week, and I just...indulge him. I don’t care what anyone else says or thinks, but he loves it, so we keep doing it.

“That’s what we were doing. Something we’ve done a thousand times before, and I’d just landed, and—” Vernon’s voice wobbles, his eyes shining with vulnerability. “One second, I was thinking about how lucky I was, standing there and watching him laugh, and the next second, the ground started shaking. The world opened up and...sucked me right in. It was like a portal. It came out of nowhere, and just _ pulled _me in. And then I was in New York, but not my New York. I was still in Central Park, but Seungkwan wasn’t.”

Donghyuck recognizes the fear and hysteria turning Vernon’s eyes glassy. He was the exact same two days ago—

“Oh my god,” he breathes out, and Mark’s attention snaps to him.

“What is it?”

He keeps looking at Vernon, pieces of the puzzle slowly falling into place. “Two days ago, the earthquake happened.”

Vernon’s lips part on an exhale, and Donghyuck hears the way it trembles. “Maybe…” He looks at Mark, and his breath catches in his throat. Everything leading up to this and moving forward could jeopardize his secret if he isn’t discreet enough. “Maybe,” he tries again. “_Our _ Spider-Man can help.”

Vernon’s eyes widen. “Wait…” His gaze finds Mark in an instant, something unreadable in his expression. Mark keeps his eyes trained on Donghyuck.

“Donghyuck-ah?” His voice tumbles into something sweeter, softer, the way it always does whenever he lapses into Korean speech. “I don’t trust him.”

“And why should you?” Vernon pipes up before he can get a word in. The two of them turn to him, shocked to hear him speak Korean. He rolls his eyes at their slack jaws. “I’m half Korean. My boyfriend is an exchange student from Korea. Yes, I can speak the language.”

Mark looks genuinely annoyed by the fact that he can’t talk to him without Vernon being able to listen in, and Donghyuck wishes he had the time to be endeared by that, but.

“Doesn’t matter,” he says in English, shrugging. “Trust or no trust, he came _ here_, Mark.”

Mark opens his mouth to retort, but he fixes him with a stare.

“And we both _ punched _ him. I think we need an actual authority figure on our side, helping us. Plus, Spider-Man knows more about the quakes than you and I do.”

A small, disbelieving chuckle leaves Vernon’s lips. “Spider-Man, an authority figure?” His shoulders are shaking now, as much as they can with the ropes restraining him, and a smile spreads across his face. His gums are on display and his eyes shine with glee. “Definitely not my New York, then.”

Mark’s lips twitch into an almost smile, before he sobers up. “So, where do we go from here? Not like we can just...book an appointment with an Avenger, or something—”

“Avenger?” Vernon’s voice rises comically. “Jesus, everything’s backwards here.”

“He’s a _ busy _ guy,” Mark presses, ignoring the interruption. “So, what then?”

Vernon shrugs, and he seems much more relaxed than he was at the start. “I’ll be able to find him,” he smirks. “Soon as I’m out of these, I’ll go look for him.” He nods down at the rope, and Mark has the decency to look sheepish and mutter a quick “Sorry.”

Donghyuck frowns. “How?” Curiosity gets the best of him.

“If you guys are serious, and there _ is _ another Spider-Man here, then I think I’ll be able to sense him.”

His blood goes cold. “Is that so?” He whispers, trying to smile. _ Does that mean he knows…? _

He hopes it’s the light of the risen sun catching on something, but he swears Vernon winks.

“Okay,” Donghyuck narrows his eyes. He stands up and makes his way over to the other side of the table, and begins untying the rope.

“Donghyuck?” Mark calls from behind him, his voice fraught with wariness. He ignores him, and undoes the last knot. Vernon immediately sags in relief, stretching his arms out and flexing his hands.

“Thank you,” he says, turning around to look at him over his shoulder. His voice is full of sincerity, and Donghyuck allows him a smile just the same.

“Take me with you,” he says.

“Donghyuck!” Mark’s sharp tone snaps his attention away from Vernon. His roommate’s eyes glint with something wild. He sighs, moving away from Vernon.

“Give us a second,” he mutters hastily before grabbing Mark’s arm and pulling him out into the hallway adjacent to their kitchen. They face each other, and he doesn’t let go of his arm. A little part of him is glad for this private moment and silently thanks Vernon for getting on Mark’s nerves to this point.

“What is up with you, huh?” He whispers. “You’re acting...odd.” He wrinkles his nose, and Mark scoffs at him.

“_Me? _ I’m not the one who just volunteered to go hunt down Spider-Man with a complete stranger! Donghyuck, how do you know you can trust him?”

“I don’t,” he answers plainly. Mark reaches out, placing his hand to the crook of his elbow, and the touch burns.

“So don’t go,” he pleads, his voice a breath away. “Let’s just turn him over to the police, call it a day, order whatever takeout you wanted.”

It takes an embarrassing amount of willpower for him to _ not _ tilt his head forward and just give in to Mark’s doe eyes. _ Yes, _ the vulnerable, lovesick part of him wants to say, _ Whatever you want. Whatever you ask for. _

He sighs sharply through his nose, and his voice is tight when he speaks as rationality squeezes past sentiment to let itself be heard. “What could they possibly arrest him for? Knocking on our door?”

“Wouldn’t be surprised if that was an actual law here,” Vernon chimes in from the other room, effectively bursting their little bubble. For Donghyuck, he almost felt relieved to be dragged back down to reality. The world was most definitely not just the space between him and Mark. His counterpart, however, seemed about ready to implode.

“I’m gonna fucking kill him.” Mark drops the whispering altogether and the tendon in his neck juts out.

A giggle slips out of him, pulling Mark’s attention back to him. Donghyuck braves the heat in his cheeks to fully drink in the fondness in Mark’s eyes, allowing himself this one, glittering moment of what he’s learned to accept as normalcy over the past few days—or weeks, even months, if he thinks a little harder.

Then, he sighs. “He came in through a _ portal, _Mark. What if other things got in? What if something could get _ out?_”

“It isn’t _ your _ responsibility to chase it, or fix it,” Mark argues. “Why put yourself in a risky situation for someone you hardly know?”

“That’s exactly what Spider-Man did for me,” he contends, and something in Mark’s gaze flickers from _ off _ to _ on_. Donghyuck hears two hearts beating erratically, and doesn’t know which one belongs to who. “You could say I’ve been inspired.”

“Well, then, I hate Spider-Man for inspiring you,” Mark grumbles in response, making him laugh. In a surge of confidence, mostly supported by the rush of adrenaline he always gets whenever Mark treats him with such an abnormal level of affection, Donghyuck leans forward and settles his head onto the other man’s shoulders. Mark’s arms immediately encircle his waist as he wraps his own around his shoulders. The other man sighs, squeezing his middle to the point of lifting him off the ground, and Donghyuck yelps, a breathless laugh stolen straight out of his lungs. 

“I know you don’t trust him,” he murmurs into Mark’s shoulder as his feet return to the ground. “He’s a strange guy with an even stranger story, I get it. But I also know you trust _ this _ city’s Spider-Man.” He feels Mark nod against the side of his head. “And you trust me.”

“Yes,” Mark says immediately. “So you _ better _ come back to me in one piece.” He pulls back to look at him, and Donghyuck is rendered speechless when they come face to face. After years of watching that face shine with tears and smiles alike, and years of tracing it with nothing but his eyes, mapping out every mole and blemish like they made up constellations on Mark’s skin; after years of pining and daydreaming and _ falling, _ Donghyuck still rakes his eyes over every imperfection like it’s his first time looking at Mark like that.

He hopes his voice doesn’t shake as much as his heart does when he opens his mouth to respond.

“I’ll come back to you.” He swallows, and watches Mark’s eyes travel to the lower half of his face. “Promise.”

The look in Mark’s eyes is electric. He holds his breath when the other man parts his lips to say something, but his eyes flutter shut in resignation when they’re interrupted.

“I think I’m gonna vomit,” Vernon’s voice reaches them, and Mark’s hand curls into the back of Donghyuck’s shirt.

“I think I’m gonna punch him again,” he mutters, and Donghyuck snickers.

“Go keep an eye on our friend from not-New York,” he says, pulling away from Mark and gently steering him back towards the dining room. “I’m just gonna go change.”

He turns, beginning to walk away, when a hand clasps around his wrist and tugs him back around. What Mark does next, he does in a flurry, too quick for Donghyuck to register what’s happening as it happens.

There’s Mark’s hand on his nape, tugging him forward, and then his other hand is pushing his bangs back. And then there’s Mark’s lips against his forehead, chaste, purposeful, tender, heartbreaking.

He pulls back, and Donghyuck has never seen such a look in his eyes before. _ Ardor _. He swears he can see a beating heart in those blown out pupils.

And he wants to kiss him. In the few (six) years he’s felt this way about him, he’s never wanted to kiss him more than in this moment. His lips part in a sigh.

He doesn’t succumb to that desire. Instead, he asks, “What was that for?” His voice comes out weak in comparison to how harshly his heart is beating.

Mark’s hand is still on his nape, his fingers rubbing small circles into his skin. “Luck?” He smiles, his eyes crinkling. “And...another promise?”

“Another promise?”

Mark is the one who sighs this time, a puff of air against his face. “When you get back,” he pauses, swallows, “I wanna tell you something.”

Donghyuck tenses up, and Mark notices, immediately bringing his other hand up to cup his jaw, which does nothing to help him relax.

“It’s nothing bad. Not...really.” He shrugs. “I was just...thinking about, um, last night—”

“Is this really necessary?” Vernon sounds bored the third time he injects himself into their conversation, and Donghyuck sees something red hot flash in Mark’s eyes.

“Give us a minute!” He calls out before Mark can say anything. He lowers his voice. “What about last night?”

Mark’s expression softens, something sad tugging his eyebrows down into a frown. “I sort of felt like I accused you of hiding something from me. You were upset and I...turned it onto me for a second, which wasn’t right.”

He’s shaking his head as soon as Mark finishes talking. “No, Mark—”

“Were you?” Mark’s eyes are wide and clear, and his gaze sends a chill down Donghyuck’s spine that clashes with the burn of Mark’s hands on his skin. “_Are _ you hiding something?”

He bites his lip. He thinks less of the louder rush of blood in his veins and more of the way that blood always reaches his cheeks whenever the boy in front of him does so much as look at him differently. He thinks about the way it took a catastrophe for him to finally breathe out the truth that he was well and truly gone for Mark, after years of shrugging off prying questions from his friends. He thinks about the ray of hope in his chest that burns brighter every time Mark’s actions are too tender, too loving, too dangerous for a friendship. 

He nods, a small and hesitant motion, and releases his lower lip from between his teeth. Mark’s eyes follow it.

“Okay,” he clears his throat. “That’s okay, Donghyuck. I’ve been hiding something, too.”

He isn’t surprised at all. How can he be? Mark doesn’t treat Renjun or Jeno the way he treats him (and if he did, it would have probably caused an argument by now, anyway). He can’t be surprised that Mark is hiding something, not when he thinks back to hundreds of nights ago when the rift between them, securing their friendship, started to quiver and cave; or, last night, when it collapsed for good. But Mark’s eyes shake with the admission so much that Donghyuck has to pull him into a hug. Mark immediately shrinks into it, every hard angle and sharp edge of his melting accordingly for him to fit.

“We’ll talk, okay?” Donghyuck says that and thinks the confession he plans to make has been a long time coming; years of longing, months of confusion, overdue. There’s a plea in his chest that Mark will echo that confession. His head is a bit more confident, but his heart remains guarded. “I’ll stop hiding if you do, too.”

Mark nods against his shoulder, extracting himself from the hug and looking at him one more time before finally pulling away.

“See you later,” he rubs at the back of his neck and he looks aggressively darling and sheepish to the point where Donghyuck thinks Mark has jumped the entire conversation if he’s already acting this demure. But he’s mistaken, because Mark Lee can be endearing to the point of innocence just as he can be painfully unpredictable.

“Pretty boy.” A lopsided smile stretches his words out sickly sweet like honey falling off the comb. Donghyuck’s heart stutters in his chest. In the back of his mind, a borderline lewd thought unfurls like a blood red rose at the height of its bloom. He wants to hear those words against his lips and taste that honey on his tongue. He thinks this is what the girls from their old neighborhood were talking about whenever they referred to Mark as a ‘heartthrob,’ and he hates it.

A broken “fuck you” is past his lips by the time Mark has already begun walking back, and he watches with disdain as Mark’s shoulders shake through his laughter. 

_ Not fair. Not fucking fair. _

  
  


After he’s changed, he and Vernon go to the roof, which is, in hindsight, horrible for his whole fear-of-heights thing; but, with just the two of them there and no Mark for him to worry about, he’s almost calm. Mostly. He foregoes divulging his worries that Mark would’ve pushed Vernon off if he hadn’t forced him to stay in the apartment.

“Ever swung before?” Vernon asks, an eyebrow raised.

He nods, his mind half in the conversation and half stuck in cacophonous echoes of ‘pretty boy.’ “It fucking sucked,” he manages to respond.

Vernon chuckles. “I’ll be extra careful, then.”

“Right,” he sighs. _ Get it together. One of you has to be serious, and it’s clearly not gonna be this Vernon character... _ “I know you can...sense him, but, I thought, maybe instead of trying to find him right away, we could visit the lab that held the Collider—pretty sure it caused those quakes, which opened up your portal.”

Vernon raises both eyebrows in surprise. “Where was all of this crucial information twenty minutes ago?! You _ knew _ how I got here and didn’t say anything?”

“I didn’t _ know_, and still don’t,” he rolls his eyes. “But...that makes sense to me. I wasn’t there when Spidey turned it off, so we’ll still need him to fill in the gaps, but…” He shrugs. “No harm in doing our own detective work, right?”

Vernon narrows his eyes. “Alright, then. Can I at least know my partner’s name, _ detective..._?”

Donghyuck blanches. “Excuse me?” He sputters.

“Your _ name?_” Vernon sighs. “I can’t keep calling you Thing 1 in my head. I’m starting to feel bad.”

“Yeah, you fucking should be,” Donghyuck glowers at him. “Donghyuck Lee.”

“Okay, Donghyuck,” he says. “Thing 2?”

“_Mark _Lee.”

Vernon raises an eyebrow. “I’ll just assume the common last name is a coincidence, and not, like...a marriage thing.”

“A marriage thing.” Donghyuck deadpans. “You’re telling me _ you _ have a boyfriend?”

“Yep!” Vernon grins, turning around and bending his knees. “He loves my jokes, too.”

“God help him,” Donghyuck mutters, mounting Vernon’s back on the physical cue. “Hurry this up, bad Spidey. I hate heights.”

“Okay,” Vernon chuckles. “Whatever you say, boss.”

Donghyuck still screams.

He looks worse for wear by the time Vernon leaps down into their landing, and it takes an embarrassing amount of help from the other man for Donghyuck to stand on his own two feet again. He stumbles at first, but swats away Vernon’s concerned hand. He points one of his own (shaky) hands towards the science building. “This way,” he says, clearing his throat.

Walking towards the building brings back uneasy memories for Donghyuck. He swallows around the lump in his throat when they pass the streetlamp, pointedly ignoring the structure and staring ahead.

“What were you doing in a weird lab like that, anyway?” Vernon’s question breaks their momentary silence, and stirs up deja vu for Donghyuck.

“Mark…” He says quietly. “I thought he was still down here when the quakes were happening.”

Vernon is quiet for a short, but thick moment. “Was he?”

“He got out before I got there,” he says. “Then, I bumped into Spider-Boy...funny how life works, I guess.” He chuckles as they duck under the yellow tape meant to keep the likes of them out of the building. “Went in to save my best friend and I ended up being the one who needed saving while he was already out and okay.” Donghyuck shakes his head and holds the door open for Vernon.

“Yeah,” the other man says, a thoughtful weight to his response. “Funny.”

The trek down the staircase is completed in silence, and the silence is only disturbed once Donghyuck leads Vernon into the lab.

“Holy shit,” he gasps, looking around at the destruction.

Donghyuck steps over rubble with a hand pressed over his chest, right where his camera would’ve been resting. He feels the phantom itch of his camera strap against his neck the longer he looks at the debris. “Guess they haven’t cleaned this up for forensic purposes, or something. Come on.” He jerks his head to the storage room door. This time, Vernon takes the lead, opening the door and sweeping his arm out in a grand gesture.

“After you,” he smiles. Donghyuck’s smile is pinched when he steps into the long hallway, Vernon following. Immediately, a shiver runs through him.

“Woah,” Vernon says from beside him. His whisper echoes throughout the space and gets lost in the wind. Donghyuck nods, as if to say, _ Woah, indeed, _ and starts to walk.

Halfway down the hallway, Vernon, to Donghyuck’s dismay, speaks again.

“Am I allowed to know?”

He resists rolling his eyes. “Know what?”

“You and Lee. And how you both know Spider-Man.” He feels him side-eyeing him, and sighs through his nose.

“There is no ‘me and Lee,’ not the way your perverted brain assumes there to be. We’re just friends,” he grits out.

Vernon laughs, something bright that sounds out of place in the desolate corridor. “Yeah, and you sound _ so _ happy about that,” he teases.

“My feelings for Mark are none of your business,” he retorts, indignant, but only realizes what he’s said a second too late. His face heats up. “I mean—”

“Relax,” Vernon chides. “Why would I tell him, anyway?” Donghyuck finally looks at him, and is almost overwhelmed by how bare and honest the other man lets himself be.

“Right,” he murmurs. “Why would you?” He sighs, looking away. “As for Spider-Man...do_ you _ know?”

A pregnant pause follows his question. He can feel Vernon’s eyes burning into the side of his face. “What should I know?”

Donghyuck swallows nervously, rubbing his hand up and down the front part of his jeans. He refuses to make eye contact. “About..._ me_.”

Vernon halts his steps, and the air between and around them shifts, suddenly charged. Donghyuck winces at the spark of pain in his head and stops walking a few steps ahead. He turns slightly, his gaze steered towards Vernon’s boots.

“Well, you just confirmed my suspicions,” Vernon finally says, and Donghyuck’s eyes shoot up.

“I’m not Spider-Man,” he says in a rush, his head spinning at the thought of _ ever _ having to make that clarification. “He’s been Spider-Man for five years, I’ve had...these _ powers _ for two days. And not because I wanted them,” he laughs bitterly.

Something akin to pain flashes in Vernon’s eyes, and Donghyuck frowns. “Don’t pity me. I don’t need that.”

Vernon sighs. “Of course you don’t. And I’m not. Do you think this city’s Spider-Man, or _ me_, for that matter, _ asked _ for what we got? No.” Donghyuck shivers, and not because of the low temperature in the hallway. He hasn’t seen Vernon this serious, not in the couple hours they’ve been around one another. “But we took responsibility for our powers, because we _ had _to.”

“But you didn’t,” he argues. “You still don’t. What if I don’t want that responsibility?”

“Then be glad this city still has me.” Donghyuck turns to the sound of the third voice joining in, his heart jumping to his throat at the sight of Spider-Man walking towards them. His suit’s red and black this time and glimmers with gold, pretty even under the horrendous ceiling lights.

Vernon stands up straighter. “So,” he says. “_You’re _ Spider-Man.”

“I am,” Spider-Man says, stopping a few feet away from them. “Are you?”

Vernon scoffs at the bite in his question. “Yeah, I am. Here to _ help_, or are you just gonna stand there?”

Donghyuck looks between the two of them, apprehension freezing his shoulders into a rigid line. His jaw goes slack when Spider-Man flicks a wad of web out, hitting Vernon square in the mouth.

Vernon’s eyes crinkle with mirth, and he seems to be saying something. It’s muffled under all the webbing, and Spider-Man cups a hand around where his ear would be underneath his mask, tilting his head coquettishly.

“Do you mind speaking up?”

If the suit and attitude weren’t proof enough, Vernon’s first purposeful display of his strength stuns both of them into belief. He rips the webbing off of his mouth like it’s a piece of tape and not a product of thousands of experiments and prototypes.

“I said,” he raises his fist, pinky and forefinger extended. “Two can play at that game.”

“Boys!” Donghyuck snaps. Vernon and Spider-Man (as best as he can convey it through a mask) have the decency to look apologetic. “You two can measure your dicks side by side _ after _ we’re through with this, okay?” He shakes his head and stalks off without another look back, hearing two pairs of sheepish footsteps follow him through the curtain doorway and into the eye of the storm.

It looks barren compared to the last time he was here. Where the Collider stood is now an empty space in the middle of a lab thrown into disarray. Small crime scene markers are littered around the ground.

“I wish I had my camera,” Donghyuck bemoans, crouching down to inspect a slab of concrete. He hears Spider-Man cough to cover up a squeak, and grins a little bit. _ Good. Feel guilty. _

Suddenly, there’s warmth at his back, and he bristles when he hears how close Spider-Man’s voice is.

“Was he bothering you?” The superhero asks lowly.

“What’s it to you?” Donghyuck mutters in response. “I chose to be here.”

Spider-Man sighs, frustrated. “I can see that, Donghyuck, but—maybe you should go home.”

At that, he turns to look at the superhero, who shrinks under his attention. “Are you not the one who gave _ me _ the same bullshit about powers and responsibilities _ yesterday? _ Fuck off, Spidey.”

“That was before you walked out on my offer to help you!” Spider-Man hisses. “We don’t know what we’re up against, and compared to the two of us, you’re extremely inexperienced and that makes you really, really vulnerable.”

“I’m not gonna be your damsel in distress again, Red. So stop _ treating _ me like one,” he growls. That seems to shut Spider-Man up.

“Hey, guys,” Vernon’s voice is quiet when it reaches them, but Donghyuck can still sense that he’s nervous. “I don’t think we’re alone.”

He and Spider-Man stand up together, Donghyuck not even registering the hand on his elbow in time to shrug it off casually. He steps towards Vernon, cautious of the furrow in the other man’s brow and the way his eyes stay fixed on a point in front of him.

“What makes you say that?” He matches his tone with Vernon’s, low and safe.

Vernon shrugs. “I can feel something…”

A clatter of metal echoes throughout the cavern, and Vernon’s gaze sharpens. “There!” He bolts into a run suddenly, and Donghyuck jumps out to follow him. They don’t get very far before Vernon scrambles to a stop, confusion clouding his features. Before them, there’s nothing but a wall and a messy wheeled table.

“He was _ right _ there!”

“You’re sure you aren’t seeing things?” Donghyuck rolls his eyes at the jab, turning around to give Spider-Man a pointed glare. The superhero shrugs and lifts his hands up, wordlessly saying, _ Hey, I’m just saying… _

He wants to reprimand him for not being serious enough given their current circumstances, but a new voice makes him freeze.

“He...he isn’t.”

Donghyuck turns around, and his heart is in his throat. Spider-Man comes to his side in an instant, as if sensing his distress. Vernon stands frozen on his other side.

The three of them watch in complete disbelief as, out of thin air, a boy appears. He’s crowded himself into the corner of the wall, the table in front of him acting as a barrier between himself and the three of them. Donghyuck realizes, after taking in the boy’s tattered sneakers and shaggy brown bangs, that he’s _ young. _He feels a little sick.

“A-are you guys like me?” His voice manages to be so, so small for being as deep as it is, and his round eyes shine with fear and confusion. They widen when Spider-Man takes a step forward, and Donghyuck instantly extends an arm out to stop him. 

“We are,” he says, and in the same moment, realizes the weight of his words. He takes a shaky breath. He turns his head towards Spider-Man slightly. “You’ve got Avengers perks, right?” He asks under his breath, and gets a nod in return. “Good. We can’t stay here, or be in public. Do something about that.”

Spider-Man nods shortly before walking away, and Donghyuck returns his attention to the frightened boy before them. “How did you get here?”

The boy’s eyes are unfocused as he replies, “A nightmare.”

Donghyuck’s heart clenches. “Can I come closer?” After a moment, he receives a small nod in response.

“Donghyuck,” Vernon warns lowly.

He snaps his head to the other man. “He’s a kid, dressed in normal clothes. Look at you and him,” he jerks his head towards Spider-Man, who’s most likely contacting someone via earpiece, and not just speaking to thin air. “Now look at me,” he gestures to his jeans and hoodie. “Who should be afraid of who here, exactly?”

Vernon sighs through his nose, and Donghyuck takes that as his green light. He turns back to the boy, and takes a few steps forward. “Hi,” he says gently. He gives the boy a fleeting but hope-laden smile. “I’m Donghyuck. Can you tell me your name?”

A shaky inhale echoes off the walls of the trembling structure. His eyes shine in a radiant relay—fear and desperation crash into one another and two words stumble past his lips. A name.

“Jisung Park.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha sorry for the cliffhanger...or am i?
> 
> only _more_ characters will be introduced from this point on, so i hope you’re all ready!! ^w^
> 
> and mahae being super gross hahaha cmon boys the world is ending is now really the time to pine?
> 
> are u guys as hopeful as donghyuck is abt what mark wants to tell him...because i sure am...but we will see 😌
> 
> also. in case anyone was wondering or wanted to ask/comment on it, _no,_ there will be no smut scenes in this fic. not particularly comfortable writing that for any ship so i’m not gonna repeat myself abt this! needless to say fic hyuck is attracted to mark in every way under the sun because he’s in love with him and vernon’s a little shit, so. sex jokes. but that’s all!
> 
> anyway! comments n kudos motivate me a lot so if u wouldn’t mind leaving some that would be Swell ♡ thank you all for reading, see you soon! (hopefully)
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/yibostellium) || [cc](http://curiouscat.me/tracer85)


	4. start a riot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey,” he calls out. “Time to go, Jisung.”
> 
> Jisung nods, and his thumb and forefinger pinch a piece of Donghyuck’s shirt together as they follow the superheroes inside. Halfway up the steps, a familiar voice appears and Donghyuck freezes as he sees the owner of the voice.
> 
> _No, no. This can’t be right._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **PLEASE READ THIS NOTE...**
> 
> *pokes head out of writer’s block cave* hello, i’m alive. please excuse my little hiatus. allow me to ramble:
> 
> WELL. in total, this chapter could not have taken me more than six hours to write. but that time spread over four months, and i spent most of it wondering what the hell i was gonna do. i tried writing other fic to pass the time, just to WRITE u know. but nothing stuck and it sucked.
> 
> i seriously considered discontinuing this story. more than once. and every time, i’d get an impossible notification that somebody had left kudos or left a comment — how do you guys FIND this story with how long ago the update was — and i decide to try to keep going. so here i am, four months later and only a mere four thousand words to offer. BUT. i’m trying really hard to ignore the expectations i set for myself with this story. publishing such long first chapters put me in a box. i kept thinking that if anything was less than 10k it wasn’t good enough to publish. i really had predicted this chapter to be at least 15k because of how much i wanted to shove into it. i’ve realized that quality > quantity, like, that’s really more than just a saying and i can see it through this chapter. i hope you guys don’t mind the short read and can appreciate the slow thickening of the plot too :)
> 
> thank you to the people who discovered this story and read it and left kudos and comments while i wasn’t updating, it really means so much to me. thank you jenn and val and my amy for being the three best and Only members of this fic’s support group...don’t know what i’d do without y’all seriously. love you lots :D
> 
> happy reading!  
-zee

“Hi, Jisung,” Donghyuck gives the other boy a real smile this time. “Can you tell me how you got here again?”

“A nightmare,” Jisung repeats.

“Okay,” he nods. “What happened in your nightmare? Do you think you can tell me that?”

Jisung nods, albeit a little hesitantly. “There..there was—nothing. And then everything. And the ground was shaking. And I kept getting farther and farther away from my bedroom window, but I wasn’t even moving.” His hands shake as he reaches up to paw away stray tears. “It was like a black hole came into my room and only took me with it when it left.”

Donghyuck chances a glance back at Vernon, and clenches his jaw when he takes in how pale the other man’s face has become. He turns back to Jisung, whose face has crumpled into a quiet cry.

“I want to go home,” he says in between wet gasps. “Why am I here? I don’t wanna be here, I want whatever brought me here to leave me alone.” Donghyuck freezes, arms paused in mid-air as he opens them, when Jisung starts to disappear.

“Jisung?” He calls out, voice verging on the edge of frantic. “Are you still here?”

A terribly small “yeah” reaches Donghyuck faster than he expected it to, and suddenly, he feels a warm weight against his chest. Something soft tickles his cheek, brushing against the side of his head.

“Ji...sung…?” He frowns. He feels arms around him but sees no one. When he hears sniffles next to his ear, he decides to risk enclosing his own arms, and lo and behold, they do embrace  _ something. _

_ Someone, _ he realizes. “Jisung,” he sighs. “You can turn invisible.” He doesn’t form it like a question, just states it with a sigh that says,  _ of course. _

Jisung only tightens his hold around him. “I can’t help it,” he confesses in a frightened voice, and Donghyuck’s heart snaps in two. 

“It’s okay,” he reassures him. He moves his hand up and down and hopes that that’s somehow soothing for the other boy. “None of us can help these things.”

Behind him, Spider-Man’s footfalls get closer until they stop.

“There’s a van waiting for us out front,” he announces.  _ That was fast.  _ “We should get going.”

Donghyuck turns around to look at the two other men as he feels Jisung fist the back of his hoodie into his hand. He shushes him lowly. “Lead the way,” he tells Spider-Man, and then tells Jisung, as directly as he can without being able to see him, “Grab onto my arm. I’ll guide you, okay? We’re going somewhere safe so we can stop your nightmare.”

He feels more than he sees Jisung’s hand curl around his upper arm, and when he follows Spider-Man and Vernon out of the lab, there’s the steady sound of a second pair of footsteps trailing behind him.

The van waiting for them across campus is everything Donghyuck expected from the Avengers: sleek, black, with tinted windows—overall looked like it cost the same amount as, if not  _ more _ than his tuition. The rear doors slide open as the four of them approach the car, and Spider-Man and Vernon climb in first. Donghyuck hesitantly taps on his arm where he still feels Jisung’s grip, silently asking him to let go so they could get in one by one and avoid bumping their heads. 

He leads, clambering into the van and finding the inside to be much more spacious than what he had expected it to be. There was a partition separating the driver’s and passenger’s seats from the back seats, which were four seats facing each other in pairs. The leather looked so freshly upholstered that Donghyuck was  _ almost _ afraid to touch it. He settles into the seat across from Vernon, and leans forward towards the open door expectantly.

“Jisung?” He calls out. “Are you coming in?”

“I’m next to you,” the other boy rumbles from right next to him, making him jump in his seat.

“Fuck,” he swears under his breath, his eyes fluttering shut. He hears someone snap their fingers and then the doors are sliding shut. Jisung issues a meek “I’m sorry” under the ruckus, and his eyes fly open.

“It’s okay,” he sighs, glancing to his left and sending a fleeting smile in that general direction. Then, he turns to Spider-Man, finding that the man was already watching him. His skin bristles. “Where are we going?”

“Exactly as you requested,” the superhero answers. “Somewhere away from that lab and the public eye.”

Donghyuck squints at him. “The location’s probably classified, or some other bullshit, isn’t it?”

Spider-Man shrugs. “Or some other bullshit,” he echoes, a hidden smirk curling his words.

Vernon scoffs. Donghyuck turns to him at the sound, frowning. The other man is looking between the two of them, before his eyes finally settle on Donghyuck, amusement making them twinkle. “Will I meet anyone you  _ don’t _ have tension with today?”

Donghyuck glares at him, hands curling into the leather of his seat. “Save it, web-brain,” He snaps, shutting Vernon up. He chances a glance at the man in question, who seems to radiate nothing but confusion.

“Did I miss something?” His mask’s eyes are almost comical in how far and deeply downturned they are.

“No,” he sighs, and looks out of the window. The city blurs past, making him feel incredibly small. Movement to his left reminds him of the invisible boy sitting beside him, and he has to physically restrain himself from flinching. He’s far out of his depth. “No, you didn’t, Spider-Boy.”

Half an hour later, a weight drops onto Donghyuck’s shoulder, startling him out of his own doze. He blinks blearily, but otherwise remains still. A glance towards the other side of the car finds his gaze locked with Spider-Man’s, who nods at his shoulder. A glance downwards grants him an eyeful of brown hair and Jisung’s relaxed face—eyes shut, mouth slightly agape, and forehead free of crisis creases. The sight of the sleeping boy pulls the corners of his lips up, and Donghyuck does his best to remain as still as possible so as not to wake him.

The van pulls to a stop soon enough, rousing Jisung. The weight on Donghyuck’s shoulder lifts and he eyes the boy carefully. Jisung catches his gaze and freezes in the middle of rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Donghyuck sends a gentle smile his way which is shyly returned as the other boy relaxes. The van door on his side slides open.

“We’re here,” Spider-Man announces, and nods at the open door. “Go ahead.”

He raises his brow but bites his tongue. He doesn’t want to make Jisung uncomfortable by stirring up conflict, so he steps out of the van without any questions asked.

Daylight momentarily blinds him so he brings a hand up to shield his eyes. Once he’s recovered, he finds himself squinting at something he’s only ever seen on the news.

He turns around and gapes at Spider-Man climbing out of the vehicle. “Classified my  _ ass _ , Spider-Boy. The whole world knows this ugly building’s coordinates.”

Behind Donghyuck, stands The Avengers headquarters — blocky and gray and complete with helicarriers and that damned  _ A  _ on the side of the building.

“It’s the safest place for now,” Spider-Man counters. “C’mon, let’s get inside already.” He passes Donghyuck and ascends the steps to the entrance, Vernon on his heels.

Donghyuck turns his attention to Jisung, who’s openly ogling the structure in front of them.

“Hey,” he calls out. “Time to go, Jisung.” 

Jisung nods, and his thumb and forefinger pinch a piece of Donghyuck’s shirt together as they follow the superheroes inside. Halfway up the steps, a familiar voice appears and Donghyuck freezes as he sees the owner of the voice — a man in what would otherwise have been a very impressive and proper suit had it not been flapping about in the wind, with auburn hair tied into a knot at his crown, and strong brows set into an intimidating arch. He’s all but charging towards Spider-Man in a fuss, his normally kind eyes ablaze with frustration.

“When we send you out on a mission, you  _ report back _ when you’re done! You don’t just  _ go home _ —see, this is  _ exactly _ why you should just move in to headquarters and save us both the headache.” 

_ No, no. This can’t be right. _

The man’s face is almost crimson with frustration by the time he’s done with his tirade, and only then does he seem to realize that he and Spider-Man are not alone. His brows raise almost comically before his expression shutters in a blink. “Who are these people?” He asks, surprisingly calm, but then his eyes catch on Donghyuck and never leave. The color drains from his face.

_ This can’t be right...I called him yesterday. He’s not supposed to be here. _

“What the hell is this?” He asks, and Donghyuck wants to echo that question so badly because really,  _ what the hell is this, _ but his voice is lost.

“Shit,” Spider-Man swears, hands coming up to rub at his head—or rake through his hair, were it not hidden by his mask. He starts to say, “I can explain—”

And at the same time, Donghyuck finds his voice.

“Johnny?”

Something grim and ashened by regret blooms in Johnny’s eyes. He blinks his gaze away and pins it on Spider-Man instead. “Why is he here?” He asks carefully.

Spider-Man answers, probably. Donghyuck isn’t paying attention anymore. He can’t seem to tear his eyes off his childhood friend—guardian, brother, at one point he even called him his knight in shining armor. He’s  _ here _ and as much as that confuses him, it’s the one thing that’s happened this week and made  _ sense. _

“—and this guy, Vernon,” Spider-Man’s voice floats back to him, “he just  _ trespasses into our universe—” _

“I did not!” Vernon interrupts.

“You did, too!”

“Spidey,” Johnny interrupts, exasperation spreading his tone thin. “Shut up.”

Donghyuck smiles at that, thoroughly amused by the authority Johnny seems to have over the superhero. 

“Sorry,” Spider-Man replies sheepishly. “Jisung is, uh, also from another universe, I think. I only brought them here because...well, they’re...they’re like  _ me _ .”

Johnny’s gasp cuts through the silence that follows Spider-Man’s words. “Three more,” he whispers.

“What do you mean ‘three more?’” The frown on Spider-Man’s face must be deep enough to reach his voice. “Johnny?”

“Just get inside,” Johnny replies, curt, already turning around and walking ahead.

“But—”

“Please,” Johnny urges over Spider-Man’s complaints. “Everything will be explained once you’re inside.” He pauses when he’s reached the door, turning around and making eye contact with Donghyuck once again. He holds his breath.

“Except you. You’re coming with me.”

“What?!” Spider-Man exclaims.

“Was I talking to you?” Johnny rounds on him, a warning in his voice. Spider-Man all but shrinks under his scrutiny. “Get the others inside. Winwin will take you where you need to go.

Donghyuck sees Spider-Man’s shoulders hike up in apprehension but he follows Johnny’s orders nonetheless. Vernon looks at Donghyuck, then looks at Jisung.

“Well,” he sighs. “Like he said. Inside.” 

Donghyuck hears Jisung gulp, and reaches up to pat the hand still holding onto his shirt. “Hey, it’s okay, Jisung. I’ll catch up with you later.”

Jisung, albeit still a little apprehensive, nods and lets go. He and Vernon follow Spider-Man into the building, and then, it’s just Johnny and Donghyuck. He doesn’t feel entirely comfortable not being there with Jisung — and that alone causes him to furrow his brows at the poor kid’s retreating back. From the minute he met him, he felt protective over him — like he was meant to, like he always  _ had _ been. 

_ As if things couldn’t get weirder... _

Johnny clears his throat to get his attention. Their eyes lock again and Donghyuck feels his heart stutter — out of fear? Excitement? Relief? He’s begun to feel things so intensely, each beat of his heart born of a different riot of emotions. He can’t tell any of them apart.

“Come on, Donghyuck,” Johnny says softly, and the call of his name in that familiar voice wraps around his heart and  _ squeezes.  _ “Let’s go.”

Inside, he has no time to marvel at the sleek structure, eyes fixed on Johnny’s back. Was he this broad as a teenager? Is it possible he grew even  _ more _ from the last time they saw each other? Or was it that in his presence, Donghyuck never failed to feel so, so, so  _ small? _

“In we go,” Johnny sidles up to an elevator and presses the  _ up _ arrow. The doors slide open almost immediately, and Donghyuck follows his gesture to step in.

Johnny pushes a button and the elevator begins to ascend. Donghyuck is sure that the structure is extremely luxurious, and can  _ see _ that it could fit a small gathering of people, yet he can’t help feeling cramped. Neither of them choose to speak, which does nothing to lessen the stuffy feeling. The walls only seem to press in closer.

A few beats pass, then Johnny seems to address the elevator itself.

“Winwin, status report.” Donghyuck frowns as he glances at the other man. “Are they where I left them?”

_ “Yes, sir,” _ a disembodied voice responds, making him flinch.  _ “Although...if my translation is correct, the one with the helmet keeps threatening to swing out of the window. He claims he’s bored, sir.” _

_ Translation? _

Johnny utters a dry chuckle as the elevator  _ dings _ and the doors slide apart. He steps out first and gestures for Donghyuck to follow him with a cautious smile. “He can complain as much as he likes. Please inform them that we’ll be down shortly, Winwin. And make sure to brief Spidey before that.”

_ “Certainly, sir.” _

“What the fuck?” Donghyuck asks as soon as he’s out of the elevator and (assumingly) out of earshot. Shock and curiosity leave no room for awkwardness, and his mouth decides to run itself. “What the  _ hell _ was that thing?”

“Winwin, our beloved A.I.,” Johnny leads him down a hallway. “They run a lot of the behind the scenes things around here. They’re...omnipresent, if you will.” 

Donghyuck promptly decides to shut his mouth.  _ Of course they have some mystical A.I. speaking to them whenever they please.  _

“Come on,” Johnny offers him a soft smile as they turn a corner. “This way.”

Upon stepping into this new hallway, Donghyuck freezes in his tracks. There, not even six feet away from them, is a man leaning against the wall with one foot kicked up and his arms folded across his chest. He wears a fitted bodysuit — the kind Donghyuck saw protagonists in sci-fi films wear when he was kid — skintight and metallic, calling attention to his lean muscles. Long, inky hair is tied back into a low ponytail, stray locks framing his sharp features and bangs hanging below his brow. He turns his head when he hears their footsteps, and pushes himself off the wall.

Ahead of him, Johnny’s steps slow down. The two men seem to have a silent conversation before the other guy nods, nearly imperceptibly, and approaches them. Donghyuck holds his breath, but the man only walks past them — but not before flashing him what might just be the biggest and brightest grin he’s ever seen. Any trace of intimidation was wiped away by that smile. He disappears around the corner, and Johnny resumes walking like nothing happened.

Donghyuck speedwalks in his haste to catch up to him. He’s led to a door, and past it, what he assumes to be Johnny’s living quarters.

The door shuts and it’s just the two of them again, enclosed together. Donghyuck takes in the room; there’s a couch positioned in front of a mounted TV, a computer desk pushed against a wall, and a dresser. There’s a door on the farther side of the room which he assumes leads to Johnny’s bedroom.

He turns his attention away from the bare room and looks back at Johnny to find that he’s shrugged his suit jacket off, and is loosening his tie. He notices that the hair underneath his knot is shaved.

“Who was that?” He asks, when he can’t stand the quiet anymore. “Outside.”

Johnny looks up at the question and sighs. “His name,” he uncuffs his sleeves and starts rolling them up to his elbows. “Is Yuta. He’s like Winwin, in the sense that we’d be helpless without either of them. Also omnipresent, although he’s not part of the building and our technology like Winwin is.” He crosses the room to a cabinet built into the wall, pulling it open and brandishing a decanter of whiskey and glass. Donghyuck’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline.

“Day drinking?” He asks carefully, taking a step closer.

Johnny pauses once he’s unstopped the decanter, looking over his shoulder at him. “With this job…” He trails off, and shrugs. “Got used to keeping these in here, I guess. Yuta’s got a cabinet for guns and knives,” he pours himself a glass, “I have a cabinet for bourbon.” 

“Is it a problem? For you, I mean. Has it become a problem? I—my friend, he had a problem. Not with alcohol, but, I’ve seen what substances do to people, so.” He bites his tongue. He was about to say something stupid, something out of line like  _ I’m here for you.  _ He’s not sure  _ why _ he’s even in this building, let alone why Johnny is here. For all he knows, this is a chance encounter and they may never cross paths again. He’s better off not making promises he’s not sure he can keep.

Johnny looks at him over the glass where he’s raised it to his lips, thoughtful. “Thank you for your concern, Donghyuck,” he says softly, and tosses his head back. Once he’s drained the glass, he stalks over to the couch. “I don’t have a problem, though,” he says with a sigh as he sinks into the leather.

Donghyuck raises a brow at him. “Are you supposed to be drinking on the job, then?”

“What do you know about my job, Hyuck-ah?” In Korean, the seemingly condescending question sounds softer. If he had asked it in English, Donghyuck’s sure it would’ve been impossible for the question to be rude, because Johnny himself was rarely ever rude.  _ Is _ rarely ever rude. He’s only honest, as more people should be.

“Nothing,” he answers, language heavy and awkward on his tongue despite the single-world answer. 

Johnny nods. “So, you must have questions.”

“Lots.”

“Sit down, then.”

Slowly, he follows the suggestion and takes the spot on the couch next to Johnny. Like this, the riot in his heart gets a little louder. Like this, they used to laugh and joke and shove at each other's shoulders with one hand while the other smashed buttons on a joystick — all on a much more battered, well-loved couch than the one they’re currently sitting on. Now, there’s no laughter, no roughhousing, none of the easiness that this kind of proximity used to bring him. Questions rise in his throat like bile. He’s afraid he’ll spit the wrong one out.

“What is your job, exactly?” He manages to ask after a heavy moment.

Johnny drags his pointer finger around and around the rim of the glass, taking equal time to answer. “I keep the people who keep people safe, safe.” He says carefully, finally. “I don’t have combat training like Yuta does—nothing beyond what I practice at the shooting range and hand-to-hand, at least. I’m not enhanced, like the Avengers. But...I make sure things run as smoothly as they can around here.”

Donghyuck sits on that answer for a minute. Eventually, he asks, “Why did you come back to New York?” He looks at Johnny next to him, sees a lankier version of him with longer hair, hears him saying,  _ “Mom wants me to come home. It’s better if I do.” _

Johnny seems to hear all the little things Donghyuck doesn’t want to bring up anyway, because he says, “I lost all my family in Chicago. Before the Snap, before the War…” He sighs, and his throat clicks loudly when he swallows. “It wasn’t just New York that got hit. There was a rumor that there was a stone in Chicago—that’s all, just a rumor. You’d think aliens would double check their sources before crossing the galaxy for something they may not even find but...maybe they didn’t care if they couldn’t find it. Maybe it was enough to take some lives and move on.”

“I’m sorry,” Donghyuck whispers, and the words are as hollow as he feels. Time has robbed him of the ability to comfort someone he used to know like the back of his hand. Nothing he says feels like enough. 

Johnny turns and smiles at him, and there are lines on his face that he doesn’t remember seeing. Some small scars, and others just the mark of age. “It hurt for a while,” he admits in a rough voice. “Still hurts. Some days more than others. But I make do.”

He smiles back at him, and he’s sure he looks a little pathetic — eyes probably watery from the way he feels them burn, lips quivering between a grin and a grimace. He takes a deep breath. “How did you end up working with the Avengers?”

Johnny looks down and away at that question, apprehension pulling him up a little taller in his seat. “I had...connections,” he says, which only causes more questions to spin through Donghyuck’s mind. “I came back here because this was always my second home, and I couldn’t bear to stay in the same place where…” He breathes out heavily. “I got lucky, coming back here,” he says finally, looking back at Donghyuck.

Donghyuck nods, and picks at the skin around his nails. He phrases and rephrases the loudest question in his mind until it finally tumbles out into the air.

“Does Mark know you’re back?”

He’s met with silence, heavier and longer than any other pause in their conversation so far, and his heart rate picks up. An ugly feeling sprouts in his stomach, growing fast like a weed. It’s nothing he’s ever associated with Mark, because Mark has never given him a reason to feel betrayed.

“That is something for you and Mark to discuss by yourselves, I think.”

He lets out a breath, shaky and rough, and it warps into a laugh. “You could’ve just said yes, hyung.”

“Donghyuck…” Johnny sighs. “It’s really not my place to butt into your affairs.”

_ Affairs. Jesus.  _ “I’m  _ asking _ you to!”

“And I’m telling you I  _ can’t.” _

They stare at each other for a beat longer, before Johnny looks away once more. “He knew.  _ Knows.” _

The weeds in his stomach spread like vines now, making his breaths come faster. They stand out among all of the pleasant things he’s come to associate with his best friend, thorns in his side and an acrid taste on his tongue. How quickly he finds all the flowery feelings he’d been harboring start to wither with the introduction of something as poisonous as this.

Movement catches his eye, bringing him back to the soft cushion under his rear and the dust of a barely lived in room. The foliage making a greenhouse of his ribs is pushed to a corner of his mind, but his breath still comes quicker than it ought to. 

Johnny’s raised his hand, slowly bringing it down to rest on his knee, like he’s giving him the opportunity for an out. He won’t take it, because he’s upset, and touch helps him. 

“Is it okay if I ask the questions now?” He asks gently, and Donghyuck wants to protest, because there is so much more  _ he _ wants to ask, but manages to hold back and nod instead.

“Okay. When...when Spider-Man said you were all... _ like _ him…” He trails off, and Donghyuck answers his question even if he didn’t completely ask it.

“That included me, yeah. Went and got myself bitten by some spider on steroids or something,” he huffs. “That was actually why I called you yesterday,” he adds, “I realized something was wrong and—and, well, I’d meant to call Renjun but I saw your contact and I ended up leaving a message.” He looks up, shyly. “I wasn’t sure if you even checked that phone anymore—or had it, still.”

“I do. It’s one of the only things I took with me when I left Chicago. I don’t always check it, and it’s almost always turned off, but on an off chance, I turned it on last night.” He gives his knee a squeeze. “I got your message, kid.”

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly. “It was kind of a mess.”

Johnny scoffs. “You were realizing you had  _ superpowers. _ I’m sure everything was kind of a mess.”

He chuckles at that, an old warmth reigniting in his chest. “Yeah, it really was. Kinda glad Spider-Boy was around to help. Don’t tell him I said that, though. His ego’s inflated as it is,” he rolls his eyes.

“Does Mark know?” Johnny bounces his earlier question back at him, leaving him to fidget and lick his lips nervously.

“No,” he admits quietly. “I’d like to keep it that way. I’d like to keep him safe.”

He gets a nod in response, but Johnny’s looking at him with such intense fondness it makes him squirm even more.

“You were always such a good kid,” he says suddenly. “A bit of a shithead when you wanted to be,” and they both laugh at that, “but you had the biggest heart, despite everything.”

He feels his smile stretch wider on its own. “Maybe it was  _ because _ of everything.”

Johnny’s smile mirrors his, and his hand leaves his knee to ruffle his hair instead, like nothing’s changed. And if he was foolish enough, he could believe that nothing had.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you, too, hyung.”

The hand in his hair, roughened from combat and clutching too tight to other, much colder hands, moves to his nape. Johnny pulls him into a side hug, letting him press his forehead to the junction between his neck and his shoulder, and he’s thankful for the little hiding spot. He’s not sure if he can survive almost-crying in front of him twice in one sitting.

“So,” Johnny says into his hair. “I’m about to show you something that might freak you out.”

Donghyuck sits up straight and peers at his older friend curiously. “I think there’s very little in the world that could do that at this point.”

Johnny quirks a brow up. “Wanna bet?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay. i am trying not to make Promises because who knows what will happen...writer’s block hasn’t left me, i just managed to work around it for a few days to finish this and publish it. i’m also about to start packing because i’m moving houses in july, so my free time will be spent elbow deep in boxes ㅜㅡㅜ what i CAN promise is the next update, whenever it will be, will have all the action i promised for this update. i literally can’t keep procrastinating it so you guys can hold me to that hehe (also more characters ^^ some r definitely for my own indulgence...)
> 
> also! i’ve edited the twitter and cc hyperlinks on all the other end notes. my current twitter is private and i will accept reqs as long as you read my carrd and have Some info abt urself on ur acc...my cc is always open though! i am more than happy to answer your questions and discuss this story with you.
> 
> what do you think johnny’s abt to show hyuck btw lollll totally not a gaggle of spider-people right...why would one of them have a helmet, i wonder? ;)
> 
> okay, that’s all! thank you again for reading. as always, kudos and comments are very appreciated. 
> 
> see you soon ^_^ (time isn’t real soon is whenever i say it is)
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/yibostellium) || [cc](https://curiouscat.me/tracer85)

**Author's Note:**

> fic title from the one, the only: 'sunflower'  



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